


Catch my hand (I'll be fighting for you)

by Clones_and_gallifrey



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Cancer, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clones_and_gallifrey/pseuds/Clones_and_gallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘"I'm so sorry Miss Smoak. The leukaemia has returned." The words are like a shot through the chest.’<br/>// Felicity meets a guy in the queue for the payphone at Starling General. She doesn’t know it yet, but they’re going to change each other’s lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

i.  
It's a sunny Tuesday afternoon when Felicity Smoak's life crumbles around her. She is sixteen years old, and it's the achingly ordinary second day of the second week back at school after a blazing Nevada summer. She's got high hopes, and ambitions that are going to take her far away from her dusty apartment with the busted air con, far away from the pretty girls who call her teacher’s pet and the spotty boys who tease her about her glasses. Far away from double PE.

It starts with nose bleeds. Three of them, on three consecutive days, leading up to that fateful Tuesday running track around a field filled with crispy grass. The tiredness comes hand in hand with the bleeding. She falls asleep in math class, and that's never happened before. Not to her. Felicity used to roll her eyes at the kids who did that, but then it happens to her and her best friend is shaking her awake, whispering the answer to a question she doesn't know she's been asked.

Running track makes her collapse. She maintains that it is heat exhaustion when the paramedics swim into her field of vision, and her friends remind her that she was in too much of a rush to eat breakfast that morning. Either way, she winds up in a hospital bed in a paper thin gown, her mother clutching dramatically at her hand. Felicity tells her mother that she is fine, that she's been feeling a little sick lately, but she had a big test this morning she couldn't afford to miss. She's lying through her teeth when she tells the doctor that she feels completely better now, but she allows them to draw vials of her blood until she starts feeling faint all over again.  
"The doctor says you need rest. You have to stay home from school tomorrow, baby," her mom insists on the drive home, worry etched onto her face.  
"Can't. It's career day," Felicity frowns, "I'm ok mom, really."

She's not ok. Felicity drags herself through school, using everything she has to stay awake, forgetting half the things she meant to ask the MIT representatives. When she gets home, there are four messages on their battered answering machine. It's the hospital, and when her mom gets in an hour later, Felicity breaks the news in a shaking voice that they have to return there as soon as possible. No, she doesn't know why, yes, it's imperative.

She has cancer. But she can't have, not really, because sixteen is too young to get cancer. But the test results say she does. The doctor with the soothing voice says she does. The nosebleeds and the exhaustion and the passing out say that she does.

It's leukaemia. Her own blood has turned against her, poisoning her. Felicity wants to cry, but the tears won't come.

They need to do more tests, need to confirm that it is leukaemia and what type it is, what stage it is. She’s supposed to doing math tests not tests to see how sick she is. Felicity Smoak is supposed to graduate from high school and drive far, far away from Vegas. She's supposed to be studying for and going to parties, complaining about how unfair her English teacher's marking is. Instead, everything moves at lightning speed, and before she knows it she has landed herself a spot on the paediatric oncology ward of the hospital, and she's being officially diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia. She belongs to cancer now.

It doesn't feel real, but it is. They give her a therapist, a kind woman with greying hair and a weird laugh, who tells her that people react to finding out they have cancer in different ways, and that it can feel like losing a part of you. It's normal to go through the grief process of denial, and anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Felicity thinks that's bullshit, until she realises she's already dived head first into stage one: denial. She cries herself to sleep that night for the first time.

She stays in the hospital for five whole weeks, growing to hate the walls surrounding her and the poison in the drips she's hooked up to. She loses bits of herself along the way, but gains friendship from people who get what she's going through, and a newfound strength she thought only existed in the movies. The chemo works. It batters her body, mind and soul, and it kills the cancer cells, so really, she owes it everything. She spends the night of her seventeenth birthday puking her guts up in a hospital bed, silent tears rolling down her cheeks; but her eighteenth in her best friend's bedroom, surrounded by people she loves, buzzed on vodka and cokes and feeling invincible.

Felicity Smoak gets accepted to MIT, dyes her hair black, and packs up her whole life into the back of her beat up old car. She leaves Nevada in her dust, just like she was always supposed to, and with it she leaves the sad, sixteen year old cancer patient behind too. She's moving on to brighter things. She's a survivor.

Felicity Smoak graduates with honours, takes a job in Starling City, signs the lease on a new apartment, makes a group of new friends, goes on a couple of dates, and tries to learn how to cook. Her life is ordinary, and she's never been happier.

It's all bought crashing down on a busy Monday morning in Starling City.

                                                                                                                              ---

 

It's the beeping that wakes her up. The steady rhythm of the machines which she is apparently hooked up to.

She's in the hospital. Felicity opens her eyes and emits a long groan, because this is not how her Monday is supposed to be going, and this cannot be happening again. She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog which has settles inside of her brain. She was walking across the parking lot into work. She took the bus because her car refused to start, and it's Monday morning and she had three meetings scheduled for today. She does not have time for this.

Felicity collapsed in the parking lot, and she's praying that she has some kind of virus, dehydration, anything else, anything other than... She can't even bring herself to think the word. Her stomach ties herself in a knot and she struggles to sit up.

"Miss Smoak. Nice to see you’re awake," a dark haired woman in scrubs pulls aside the curtain of the cubicle and steps inside.

"It would seem that way," Felicity sighs, too afraid to ask all of the questions that she really wants to.

"I'm Doctor Martin," she offers up her hand for Felicity to shake, and she mentally crosses off 'infectious disease' from her list of 'things that might be wrong with me.' She's almost disappointed.

"Felicity Smoak. But I'm guessing you know that already. Somehow," Felicity narrows her eyes at the doctor.

"You were carrying ID with you when you were bought in."

"Oh right. Of course," Felicity runs her hand through her hair. Her mind is scattered, like she can’t pin her thoughts down.

"How are you feeling?" Doctor Martin asks, pulling the clipboard from the end of the clean, white, hospital bed.

"I'm fine," Felicity answers on autopilot. She hasn't really taken stock of her body yet, but she does know that her head shouldn't be pounding like this, and she shouldn't be this damn tired. On the other hand, all of her limbs are intact, so that’s a step closer to ‘fine’.

"It's important that I know how you're feeling," the doctor surveys Felicity with suspicion. "I understand that you're a cancer survivor." Felicity swallows hard, her pulse picking up. Not this. Not now. Not ever again.  
"Yeah. I am. I survived cancer, but it's gone now, it was a long time ago that I was sick. But I know that cancer treatments can have lasting effects on the body, for example stunting the growth of young children, so I don't know, maybe I collapsed because of some residual damage from the chemotherapy? Several interesting studies have been published recently on the-"

"Felicity!" Doctor Martin interrupts her panicked spiel. "I'm not saying that your cancer is back. I'm just saying that it's something we will need to test for, something you need to keep in mind."

"What if I don't want to keep it in mind?" Felicity mutters, her voice barely audible above the din of the ER. The doctor sighs, a sad look crossing her face.

"We need to carry out some tests." She squeezes Felicity's shoulder. "I'm going to send a nurse in to take some blood, and you'll need to collect the results with your own doctor. They should be ready within twenty-four hours, so make an appointment as soon as possible."

"Tomorrow is no good for me," Felicity shakes her head. For starters, it's not like she can miss any more work, and apart from that, the results are going to make whatever this is real. Maybe it's nothing, and the results will put her mind at ease, but on the other hand it might be... Something.

She's not ready to take that risk.

"Well, make it for Wednesday then." The Doctor suggests.

"Wednesday. Ok. I can do Wednesday I guess." Felicity agrees, beginning to worry her bottom lip.

"Make sure you do, Miss Smoak. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how serious this could be." Her words make Felicity squirm uncomfortably. She's not thinking about that right now, nope. She gives a quick nod by way of reply.

"Can I leave after my blood has been taken?" She asks, mentally calculating what time she can be back at work.

"Not yet, I’m afraid," Doctor Martin looks genuinely apologetic, but it does little to appease Felicity.  
"We need to keep you under observation for a couple hours, because you were unconscious for quite a while."

"And is there any way I can get out of this? That hand shake earlier, was I supposed to hand you a twenty during it?" Felicity checks, only half joking.

"No," the Doctor smiles, "just relax. There's every possibility that you collapsed due to stress."

"Hmm. Great. Can I call work? I need to check that I still have a job, you know," Felicity is worried; missing work without letting anyone know why is a big no-no, that's just common knowledge.

"Sure, but you're not allowed to use a cell phone in here. There's a pay phone at the end of the hall," she points to the left, and hangs the clipboard back on the end of the bed.

"Ok. Thanks," Felicity checks that the gown she woke up in is done up at the back, and then moves to stand.

"I'll send one of the nurses in for the bloods within the next thirty minutes. See you later," and with that, the doctor sweeps from the room.

"Not like there's any rush," Felicity mutters under her breath.

                                                                                                                       ---

  
There's a queue at the payphone and Felicity thinks she might never get to call work. There’s a young woman with a baby on her hip screaming into the receiver in a language Felicity can’t identify. She prepares for a long haul. Behind the screaming woman is a nervous looking, middle aged man, and behind him is... Oliver Queen. His father is her boss, and she’s not quite sure what that makes Oliver apart from ‘the media's bad boy’.

Felicity has never met him before, but she has seen him around QC before, usually trailing after his father. As heir to the business throne, Oliver's job is to trail his father, trying to learn something useful or earn his keep or whatever he’s doing. Felicity knows that he's a notorious womaniser and that he's been arrested more times than she can keep track off. But he doesn't look so bad, standing in line at the payphone, head bowed, wearing casual clothing and scuffed boots. He just looks like a regular guy standing in line at a payphone. She doesn’t know why that’s so strange to her, or what else she would have expected- he just looks out of place.

He looks up as she approaches, and she notices the dark circles under his eyes. He's tired. Felicity wonders why he’s in the hospital, and why he’s in this hospital, not some fancy private institute where they charge you for the air you breathe.

She smiles at him, in spite of herself, and he returns the gesture. His smile doesn't reach his eyes, but she supposes that hers probably doesn't either, not today. The ER is not a place associated with wide smiles. Felicity leans against the wall beside him, feeling the cold concrete seep through her shirt. The woman using the payphone is getting louder, somehow. Felicity sighs, drumming her fingers against the wall.

"So," she jumps. Oliver Queen is speaking to her. Oh. "What are you in for?"

She snorts before she can stop herself. "What am I in for? Six counts of armed robbery, how about you?" She doesn't know why those words leave her mouth, but they do. For a moment she regrets them, hates herself for being unable to control what she says. He's going to think she's some kind of crazy (she can't put her finger on why that bothers her so much), but then she glances at him and he's chuckling at his feet.

"Homicide. But I’m innocent," he winks at her, and she gets mad at her body for creating ridiculous butterflies in her stomach. Two can play at that game.

"Sure you didn't," she winks back, an overzealous, stage wink, "it's our little secret."

"Ok," he shoots back, deathly serious. "But I should take your name, if we're going to be trading secrets on a regular basis."

"Wow, presumptuous," Felicity tries to act serious too, but ends up smirking at him. Smirking. "I'm Felicity. Smoak." She tells him after a pause of not-so-awkward eye contact. She wonders if her makeup is a mess, if she looks as worn down as he does. Her heart is beating in her ears.

"Oliver Qu-"

"Queen. I know who you are." She says without missing a beat, and then realises she sounds like a crazy person again. "Oh no, you probably think I'm some kind of stalker. I'm not, I swear. But you're a Queen, your family is pretty famous. You're on the news a lot, not that that's a bad thing! Also, I work for your father, so there's that." Felicity has to clamp her teeth down on her lip to stop herself from rambling on forever. She chances a look at her new acquaintance out of the corner of her eye, and only releases her lip when she sees a small smile playing on his own lips.

"You work for Queen Consolidated?" He asks, seeming genuinely interested. "I'm sure I would have remembered a pretty face like yours."

"Oh!" He called her pretty. She kicks herself for being such a girl about it, but hell, she's stuck in the hospital, she needs something good to happen today. Then again, this is Oliver Queen. He probably says that to all the girls he thinks he has a shot with. "Well, yeah. I work in the IT department." She explains.

"IT? I don't get down there much. You guys pretty much manage yourselves."

"Yeah. We're a pretty independent bunch," she nods. "But, uh, I was actually planning on using the phone to see whether I still have a job. No employer takes kindly to their staff just not showing up to work with no explanation," she tells him.

"But you're in the hospital," he frowns, "no one's going to fire you for being in the hospital."

"You sure about that?" She winces a little.

"Sure." He nods. "And I'll tell you what, Felicity Smoak. Since you're keeping my homicide secret, leave this with me. I'll sort it out. I mean, I'm seeing you here with my own eyes, and I don't think anyone would choose to come to hospital and wear one of those attractive gowns just to get out of work."

"I don't know, they're pretty hot fashion items," she laughs, a little nervous, thanking her lucky stars she woke up before they wrangled her into a gown, before the main part of the information has hit her. "Wait, really? You'll fix it for me?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. Are you going to be in tomorrow?" He asks.

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Ok. I'll see you then," he smiles, "go and rest, or go home, or whatever it is they want you to be doing."

She blinks up at him, scanning his face from chapped lips to unkempt hair. "Thank you. Seriously. Thank you, Oliver," she smiles back, her eyes meeting his. She notes that they are sad eyes. "And I'm actually stuck here for a few more hours, so, I should probably get back to that," she sighs, pushing away from the wall. There are scratchy hospital sheets and needles and a bleak future ahead of her. She looks into the warm eyes and the small smile of Oliver Queen and wishes she didn’t have to go.

But the woman with the baby is slamming the phone into the wall and walking away, and the line moves forward. Felicity takes a few steps backwards and watches as Oliver runs his hand across his face, eyes scrunching shut for a few seconds, like he wants to be anywhere but here, with anyone but her. She swallows hard and turns to leave.

"Hey!" He calls after her. She turns. "Are you ok?" She's surprised by the question.

"I'm fine," she replies, trying to keep her voice steady and honest, wishing it to be true. "Are you?" She checks.

"Me? I'm great." He's looking at his shoes again. "I just come here to scout out beautiful women," he smiles again, and this time it's closer to his eyes. It's the smile she pictures when she's having needles dug into her arms, and the smile she holds in her mind that night as she tries to keep it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is my first Arrow fic! I started this fic over a year ago but life got in the way, and I re-opened it recently and edited it like mad and decided to post it. I have a few chapters written already, and I honestly have no idea how long this is going to be but we shall see. 
> 
> Please give kudos or a comment if you like it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the next chapter! I am overwhelmed by how many people read/commented/gave kudos/subscribed to the first chapter! Thank you so much everyone who read it! I hope you like this chapter too.

**ii**.  
Felicity makes it through the rest of the day, takes the bus to big belly burger and then walks the rest home. She drags herself into the shower, puts on clean pyjamas, climbs into bed, and is asleep.

When she wakes up, it’s to an alarm that has been screeching at her for six minutes already. She tries to push away the knowledge that this is what it was like _last time_. She shakes the sleep from her mind, and starts on her new day, wondering fleetingly if she will be seeing Oliver Queen again today, and if he will remember her or if she was just another face in his busy day.

She does see him again, much to her surprise. She still has her job too, so either he kept his word, or QC has a very lenient absences policy. Felicity is hoping the reason she’s not in trouble isn’t because no one noticed she was gone, she likes to think she does important work. She's working hard, half trying to catch up from the previous day, and half trying to distract herself from thinking about her health, and the pounding headache and the extra blush she had to apply this morning.

"Knock, knock," Felicity jumps, dragged from her thoughts, as a man appears around the door.

"Oliver!" She smiles, completely against her will. "I’m sorry, Mr. Queen." Felicity mentally kicks herself. One conversation with a person does not mean they’re on first name terms, and they’re at work now anyway.

"It’s Oliver," he smiles back, "Mr. Queen is my father." Oh, so first name terms it is. The hospital is a great place to bond, apparently.

"Right. Of course," she nods. "So I still have a job. Guess I owe you one."

"Hmm, if I remember correctly, we're even now, Miss 'six counts of armed robbery'," he throws her that same wink. She's aware it's probably been used to charm countless numbers of girls into bed, but she doesn't _think_ this is what's happening. She's pretty sure that, despite his earlier claim, even Oliver Queen doesn't pick up conquests in hospitals.

"Ha. Very funny, Señor Homicide."

"Señor Homicide?" He raises his eyebrows at her and she nods vigorously.

"That's what it says on your wanted poster." Felicity deadpans.

"Damn it. They've discovered my true identity," he shakes his head and she can't stop herself from laughing any more. He just watches her, an amused expression crossing his features.  
  
"But seriously," she starts, a minute or so later, "thank you. For ensuring I didn't get fired. And for, y’know... Making me smile," she says the last part quietly, a little embarrassed. But she owes him thanks.

"Don't even mention it, Felicity." She likes the way he says her name. She's so screwed. "But I actually came down here for a reason."

"Oh?" She raises her eyebrows, suddenly nervous.

"I was wondering... If you'd like to accompany me to lunch?" She blinks. She was not expecting that.

"Lunch? What's that?" She gives a dry laugh, "I normally just grab a sandwich from the cafeteria and eat it at my desk," she admits guiltily.

"No way can we have that," Oliver tuts. "You were in the hospital yesterday. So I'm guessing, in one way or another, you were sick. And when you get sick, you need to eat a lot, get your strength back up. Felicity, it's really a health and safety issue that you come and eat lunch with me." He finishes his explanation with a glint in his eye. And really, there's no way she can say no to that, is there?

 

They wind up at a little Italian cafe that she passes every day on her way into work, and never even knew existed. Oliver orders a beautifully presented spaghetti dish, and Felicity orders a fancy version of a grilled cheese. The music could be straight out of Lady and the Tramp, and the coffee has a foam art heart on top, and it's the best lunch she's had in a really long time.

"So, how did you end up at QC, Felicity?" Oliver asks, twirling spaghetti around his fork. She notices he keeps saying her name, and she's not sure if it's some kind of tactic or what, but she's not about to ask him to stop. She's not sure if this is a date or just two people having lunch in close proximity, but whatever it is, it's a good day.

"Oh, I don't know. It's not exactly a complicated story," she shrugs, "I went to MIT, graduating class of '09, and then I had to find a job, and I mean, I didn't even know where I wanted to live, just so long as it wasn't Vegas - long story - and I applied to a lot of places. But Starling is nice. It has a lot of... Nice qualities about it. And I liked the sound of the job at your father's company, so when I was offered it, I took it." She takes a sip of her coffee and wonders if she's said too much.

"That's interesting," Oliver tells her, through mouthfuls of his food, and she's 99% sure that he's not being sarcastic.

"I guess I don't have to ask you how you got there," she smiles.

"Oh, you know how that goes. My father wanted me to learn the ways of the company. How could I say no?" Ok, so now he's being sarcastic. So he hates his job. She notes this down as an interesting development.

"So what would you be doing, if you could do anything you want?" She's curious.

"Anything?" Oliver checks, looking pensive. "Hmm. I'd probably like to work in Victoria's Secret, or similar." That's all it takes for Felicity to reach across the table and punch Oliver on the arm. He’s being the kind of Oliver that Felicity would have expected before she met him yesterday. "Ow! You punch hard. I'm starting to believe the whole armed robbery story," he grins at her. "If I could do anything," he takes a deep breath, scratches his temple, "I don't know, Felicity. I guess I'd want to help people, or something."

"Or something. Yeah, I hear that's a great job," she grins back. "It's a hard question, huh?"

"Yeah," Oliver agrees. He puts down his fork and takes a sip of his drink. "So here's another hard question. Why were you in the hospital yesterday? If you don't mind me asking." Felicity kind of does mind him asking. On the one hand, she probably has nothing to worry about. Telling him is going to achieve no good; it will make him see her as a sick person, and it will make everything feel so much more damn real. On the other hand, telling someone would feel like a huge weight off of her shoulders. And there’s something in his eyes as he studies her that she thinks might be concern, so she takes a deep breath and tells him one half of the truth.

"I - I passed out. In the parking lot of QC." She settles on a half-truth. She doesn't know why she collapsed; why should the fact that she had cancer when she was sixteen factor into this?

"You passed out? Why? Are you ok?" He reaches across the table, as if to grab her hand, but thinks better of it, turns it into a stretch at the last minute. She tries her hardest to hide the disappointment on her face.

"I don't know why. They're running tests, and I'll get the results tomorrow," she tells him.

"What do they think it is?" He sounds worried. Oliver Queen is worried about her.

"Stress, maybe?"

"Do you need time off work? I can get you time off work. You should relax more." His voice is thick with worry. Oliver Queen isn’t supposed to care this much about her. According to the media, Oliver Queen isn’t supposed to care this much about anything. Except maybe his little sister.

"You sound like my friend Caitlin," Felicity rolls her eyes.

"She sounds like a clever woman," Oliver muses.

"She is, coincidentally. But, anyway, I'm absolutely fine. And I do not need any more favours from you." She points her finger at his chest.

He narrows his eyes at her for a second. "Ok," he sighs, "but if you need _anything_ ," he pauses, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "I'm giving you my number, so you can call me."

"You’re giving me your number? That’s a little full on don’t you think?” Felicity grimaces and watches as Oliver’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to speak, and then she starts laughing, “I’m kidding. Thank you.” She smiles at him and he reciprocates- his smile full of warmth and tenderness.

\---

“Oliver Queen gave me his number today,” Felicity blurts out that night, sitting with her best friend Caitlin Snow as they pass a pint of mint chip ice cream between them and channel surf.

Caitlin whips her head round to look at her. “ _What_?”

“And he told me to call him if I need anything. Although I doubt he meant that, he was probably just being nice. No-one really says that and means it do they? I mean, there’s a line…” Felicity trails off, licking the back of her spoon.

“Back up. Why did he give you his number? I know that technically speaking you work in the same building, but I wasn’t aware you knew him?” Caitlin stares at Felicity.

“I don’t _know_ him. I kind of met him yesterday,” Felicity admits.

“Where?” Caitlin asks.

“In the hospital. I don’t know why he was there, and he doesn’t know why I was there, but we met in the line for the payphone and we talked for a little bit. He’s… nice,” she can’t choose a word to describe him, and nice is kind of the worst word in the English language, but she doesn’t know Oliver Queen properly yet, and nice will have to do.

“You met _Oliver Queen_ in the line for the payphone at the hospital?” Caitlin’s eyebrows are raised, “did he try and hit on you?”

“Oh my God, no!” Felicity laughs, “He was nice. Just a nice, normal kind of guy, who I guess had a bad day and wound up in the hospital.”

“And he gave you his number then?”

“No. I told him that I worked at QC, in IT, and he came and found me today. Which now I’m saying it seems a little weird? But he asked me to lunch.”

“Why am I just hearing about this now?” Caitlin demands to know.

“Well, I’ve kind of had other stuff on my plate,” Felicity shrugs. “But anyway, he was nice, and he told me to call him if I needed anything,” she can't help but let a smile creep into her voice.

“Wow,” Caitlin nods, “are you going to? Call him, I mean?”

“I don’t think so. I have my appointment tomorrow to worry about, anyway,” Felicity frowns, wishing she could just have normal stuff to worry about, like whether or not she should call Oliver. Caitlin frowns too, and stabs her spoon into the tub of mint chip.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Caitlin offers.

"No, no. I'm going to be fine. They're going to tell me it's stress, and I'm going to be given some antibiotics and it'll be ok." Felicity tells Caitlin, as well as herself.

"You know that's not what antibiotics are for!"

"Yes, I am aware," Felicity says through a mouthful of ice cream. The two sit in a comfortable silence, listening to the drone of the TV; it’s now on some ancient rom com that neither of them is particularly invested in.

She hadn’t wanted to tell Caitlin, to tell anyone, about the hospital and about the cancer maybe being back, but truthfully Felicity was scared. And she didn’t want to have to go through this alone.

"You know," Caitlin begins slowly, "if it is...cancer... If it _is_ back... I know people." Felicity bursts out laughing, because if she doesn't, she'll burst into tears instead.

"Caitlin, I wasn’t aware that you were a member of some kind of medicinal Mafia," Felicity teases, watching as Caitlin shakes her head, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"You know what I meant!" Caitlin bats at her friend with her spoon. "I know who the best doctors are, in the area." Felicity sobers, the reality of the situation hits her again. Caitlin reaches over and picks up Felicity's hand, squeezing it. "If you do have it, which you probably don't, you're going to beat it. I'm going to make sure you do." Felicity thinks that, if cancer were a team sport, she'd beat it hands down.

\---

Doctor’s waiting rooms are horrible places, and this one doesn’t even have a TV or a wifi connection. Waiting in them feels like waiting to be taken to your own beheading. The chairs are cold plastic, the phone will not stop ringing, and the old man two seats down sounds like he might be about to cough up his own lungs. Felicity would rather be anywhere but here. Hell, she would rather be forced into waitressing with her mom at the cocktail bar than be here.  
Her phone buzzes, making her jump, and it’s a text from Caitlin asking if she’s been seen yet and if she is ok.  
‘ _No, still sitting in the waiting room from hell. How’s work?_ ’ Felicity replies, fingers flashing over the buttons. She’s finding it hard to keep her hands still, they’re starting to shake.

She counts the ridges in the dented plastic arm of the chair twice and finds two different numbers, and the ticking of the clock on the wall across from her is so loud that she thinks it must be broken, just like everybody sitting in this ridiculous waiting room.

Her phone buzzes again and Caitlin has replied with the eye roll emoji which makes Felicity smile a little, followed by ‘ _Work is work. Call me when you are done. Thinking of you_!’

She starts bargaining with Gods she isn't sure are real - _if I don't have cancer, I will never drink again, if I don't have cancer, I will stop eating meat, if I don't have cancer, I will go to synagogue every week, if I don’t have cancer, I will..._

The bargaining is useless, and she's guessing that nobody is listening, because the doctor sits her down and pushes a box of tissues towards her and offers up nine words that define her foreseeable future.

"I'm so sorry Miss Smoak. The leukaemia has returned." The words are like a shot through the chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you enjoyed it, please leave a comment or some kudos! 
> 
> And if you feel like it, come hit me up over on tumblr at jakelovesamy
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is here! This was originally two chapters but I felt like as they were both kind of filler chapters I would put them together and I think it works well, let me know!
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, thank you so much for the lovely comments and the kudos you left last chapter, they really feed the muse! :). I feel like we all need olicity fic to get through the bad times on the show at the minute!

**iii.**

The world goes numb after that. Felicity’s doctor tells her she needs to make an appointment for further testing. He suggests the next day, but she argues her way to Friday, and then hasn't got the strength to push for more days. She feels like her days are numbered now anyway. And she's sixteen all over again. Just as terrified, just as unsure, just as devastated. But this time, her mom isn't there to clutch her hand and show her how to feel. There's no one to book her appointments or pack her hospital bag now. It's just Felicity, and she's all alone, and she needs to figure out how to act like an adult and do all of these things by herself. 

She's got the morning off work, but she needs to go in in the afternoon. For part of her, this is the last thing in the world she wants to do- that part wants to go home and get into bed and never get out again. That’s the part that niggles at the edges of all of her big life decisions telling her to give up. The bigger, stronger, part of her is telling her to swallow this knowledge until she can process it properly, until she has the time to fall apart. That part of her is telling her to put on her work clothes and storm through the day, that it will take her mind off of things and let her go back to being her. That part of her brain says she can fight this and says she can win, too. That’s the part she always tries to listen to, and today is no different. 

Felicity switches herself to autopilot. She drives home, turning the radio up to drown out her tangle of thoughts, changes her clothes, drinks a cup of coffee, throws it up, brushes her teeth, and goes into work. She repeats this act the following morning, still numb all over, still disbelieving. She hasn’t let herself fall apart yet, telling herself there’s no time. There’s so much to do before she puts her life in the hands of doctors and nurses and drugs which will tear her apart before she can be rebuilt. 

She tells Caitlin but she can’t bring herself to tell anyone else and ruin more people’s days, see the flicker of pity in the eyes of people she barely knows. She doesn't see Oliver, and she's half glad of it, because if she had she doesn't know how she would have kept it from him. And if she tells anyone else it will make it a real thing, and she will have to make plans which enable it to destroy her whole world. She's not ready to give cancer that satisfaction yet. 

She's not going to make her mom cry again. She's not going to be the reason she flies to Starling and loses her job. Her mom calls her on Thursday night and Felicity tells her everything is ok, work is going well. She listens to the excitable tones on the other end of the phone, and wishes herself away, wishes for once that her mom was here, that she would hug her and tell her everything would be ok. 

Caitlin comes over an hour later and Felicity doesn't let her get a word in edgewise, babbling about work and movies and groceries and _anything_ , until Caitlin interrupts her to tell her in a broken voice that her nose is bleeding. Felicity lets go then, and cries harder than she has in years. Caitlin brings her a box of tissues and puts her arm around Felicity’s shoulders until the bleeding stops, and lets her cry into her sweater until she has no tears left. 

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” Felicity tells Caitlin, voice thick with tears.

 Caitlin grips her hand tighter, “You’re going to get better,” Caitlin says with conviction. “You’re going to finish those stupid tests they need you to do, and then you’re going to let them fill you will poison and you’re going to get better. And you’re going to meet your soulmate and get married and have babies and this will all just be a sad story, ok?” Caitlin’s own eyes are swimming with tears now, and she lets them fall.

 “That sounds nice,” Felicity sniffs. 

“It will be. It will be the _best_. And I am so sorry that you have to go through all of this to get what most people are just going to take for granted. But you should know that you can beat this, and you are _not_ alone.” Caitlin tells her, staring into her eyes. Felicity swallows her tears and lets the gravity of Caitlin’s words sink in, determination building under her skin. She can do this. She _will_ get better. And despite what she thought, she isn’t so alone. 

 

Friday looms ahead like a demon, but like all days you dread, it comes far too soon. Felicity tries her hardest to push it away, to concentrate on anything else she can, but suddenly she’s going to bed on Thursday night and she can’t fight the sleep any longer. She wakes up on Friday morning with a sense of dread hanging over her, another heavy weight to drag through her day. Felicity has to undergo a bone marrow aspiration, just like when she was sixteen, and it’s just another step closer to more bad news and painful treatment. A voice in her head, which sounds oddly like Caitlin, tells her that actually it’s just another obstacle she needs to get over before she can return to her life. 

"I'm driving you, don't fight me!" Caitlin insists, as soon as Felicity tells her that she won’t be able to drive herself home and is planning on getting a cab. 

"No, you have to work! The appointment is at four p.m. and you don't get off work until six, most days," of course Felicity is going to fight her. She's not going to poison Caitlin's life with cancer, too.

 "I can get off early. I'm not letting someone jab a giant needle into your hip alone, Felicity! It's settled, I'll be there." Felicity has no more fight left in her.

 

Somehow, Felicity drags herself through work, trying her hardest to remain focused on anything other than the fact that _she has cancer_. She leaves work at three wondering how bad it would be to just stay there, to continue working live everything is normal, to just ignore her illness. Maybe if she ignores it, it will go away. She hasn't seen Oliver for days, which wouldn’t have been considered unusual before he took her out to lunch, but she thought that they had really clicked. She’s thought about giving him a call, but what would she say to him? She writes that off as one more thing going terribly in her life.

 

The bone marrow aspiration is painful. Really painful. When she was sixteen they gave her an anaesthetic injection, but now it’s just a smudge of numbing cream on her skin, which helps a little but not greatly. Sixteen feels like a lifetime away, but lying on that bed with Caitlin gripping her hand, she feels closer to that scared kid than she has in a long time. If she shuts her eyes it's her mom holding her hand and her old doctor holding the needle. 

"You ok?" Caitlin asks quietly when they're done. 

"Yeah," Felicity closes her eyes and tries not to puke. 

"You did really well," the doctor smiles, "the results will be available on Monday morning, and you'll be able to meet with your oncology team then. Make an appointment with the receptionist on your way out."

 She has to stay under observation for one hour, and she spends it drifting in and out of sleep with Caitlin stroking her hair back from her face and telling her about things in her life, anything other than the here and now.

 

The reception desk on the oncology ward is located almost opposite the inpatient day room, where the patients can go to socialise, play games, or watch movies. Felicity stares blankly into the room as she waits for the receptionist to log her appointment on the system. She's going to be a patient here soon. She's going to know these people. When she was sixteen she stayed on the paediatric ward, full of screaming toddlers and nurses with patience of steel. This time, everything is going to be different. She's scanning the faces in the room; a group of old women with scarves on their heads, playing cards, a blonde haired woman scribbling away on a stack of paper, and.... Felicity can't believe what she is seeing. 

It's Oliver, in the hospital again. She frowns, taking a step closer to the door. He's sitting on an armchair beside some kid with a red hoodie and model features. Hoodie kid looks sick, with pale skin and sunken eyes, hand wrapped around an IV pole. Is Oliver visiting him? She frowns, studying him. 

Oliver Queen is wearing pyjamas; dark green ones. His arms stretched out in front of him. He’s wearing of those paper hospital bracelets. He's a patient. He's sick. 

"What are you looking at?" Caitlin asks, tugging on her arm. 

"Nothing," Felicity turns away quickly. Everyone knows who Oliver Queen is, and she doubts that he wants anyone to know he's sick. If he did, she's sure that _everyone_ would know he’s sick, that it would be on the news and filling the pages of glossy magazines.

It doesn't make sense. Why would he keep it a secret? _Why am I keeping my cancer secret?_ She knows exactly why. People would treat her differently and look at her weirdly and tread carefully around her, like she’s made of paper and the whole world is trying to burn her down. Worst of all they will look at her with pity, and say they’re so sorry, when really they’re just so happy it isn’t them or one of their own loved ones.

  But she and Oliver aren’t going to be able to keep it from each other much longer, keep _anything_ from each other, not if she's getting admitted there soon. Should she confront him at work? Is he even going to be at work anymore? What if he saw her on the oncology ward? Felicity spends the weekend with six different brands of worry gnawing at her insides.

 The weekend drags. She wants it to be Monday, to get the terrible news out of the way. The sooner she starts treatment, the sooner it can be over. She also really wants the weekend to go on forever, so that she can pretend she’s ok forever. She had planned on living life to the fullest in those two days, but things don’t go to plan because she’s so tired. She falls asleep on her couch on Friday night around nine, and wakes up fourteen hours later with a crick in her neck and a fuzzy taste in her mouth. She brushes her teeth and ignores her bleeding gums, takes a long shower in too-hot water, puts on clean clothes and eats a mildly stale blueberry muffin. She ignores all five phone calls from her mother (and the guilt that follows), decides against leaving the house based on how tired she feels, and falls back asleep on the couch instead.

  **\---**

Monday arrives, sun bleached and early. 

Felicity makes her way to the hospital alone, shaky and unsure, and endures the same old painful waiting room wait. This time it's different, though, it's early and the waiting room is full of people just like her. She takes stock of the other waiting-room residents, thinking how much closer to _death_ this all feels. There's a woman who doesn't look much older than her, with no hair and sunken cheeks, and a frail man in a wheelchair who she doesn't think has long left at all. She's done this all before, of course, and last time it was so much worse, because the people on deaths door back then were all under the age of eighteen. It's a grand injustice to die before you have even lived at all. 

Felicity waits for ten agonising minutes before being called into the office. 

“Felicity Smoak?” A smiling woman with hair tied back and a name badge which reads ‘Doctor Michaels’ calls her in. Felicity’s hands are sweating, she wipes then on her sweater and tries to stop looking like she wants the earth to swallow her up as she walks towards the Doctor’s office. “Hi, I’m Doctor Michaels,” the woman reaches out to shake hands with Felicity, who accepts tentatively.

 “Hi,” Felicity is annoyed at how small her voice sounds. 

“How are you feeling today?” Doctor Michaels asks, ushering Felicity into the office. 

“Oh you know… like I have cancer,” Felicity attempts some humour. Honestly, she just feels numb. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Felicity isn’t sure what she’s trying to say. She sits down in the lurid green chair Doctor Michaels offers up. 

“It’s ok, Felicity. Everyone deals with illness in their own way,” Doctor Michaels rounds her desk and sits in a - much nicer looking - black chair and begins typing away on her computer. 

Felicity taps her fingers on her leg, looking around nervously. She isn’t good at sitting still when she’s nervous, and she’s never been much more nervous than she is now. Today is the day she finds out the specifics- what kind of leukaemia, what stage, has it advanced to other parts of her body, how are they going to treat it? She wants to spit the questions out and stop the tendrils of panic clawing at her throat, but they don’t even have all of the information to give yet, she knows. They will need to do more tests and wait for the results and she will have hours of agonizing alone time with her thoughts, and all the while the time will be ticking closer to the start of treatment and a big goodbye to normal life, the life she worked so hard for after cancer failed to consume her last time. And it was all for nothing, because now cancer is taking that from her too.

 “Felicity? Are you ok?” Doctor Michaels is waving her hand in front of Felicity’s face.

 “Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I just have a lot to think about right now, and a lot I need to do and take care of before I get admitted here and have to put my entire life on hold,” Felicity can feel tears starting to prick at her eyes, and she scrunches her eyes shut, refusing to let them fall. Not today. Today she has to hold herself together until they know all of the facts. Today she has to pretend to be strong.

“Of course. Well I’m going to do my best to answer any questions you have today, and we’ll need to do more tests to provide you with as many answers as possible,” Doctor Michaels smiles kindly, and Felicity offers a weak smile in return. “So I have your bone marrow aspiration results here,” she turns her attention back to the computer monitor and scrolls down. Felicity sits up straighter, waiting to hear the news she already knows is coming. “It’s confirmed that you do have leukaemia, and that it’s of the Acute Myeloid variety. I understand this is the leukaemia you had when you were a teenager?” Doctor Michaels’ eyes flicker to Felicity, who can only nod in reply. “I’m guessing that your doctor spoke to you then about the fertility issues associated with treatment?” Doctor Michaels asks.

 “Yeah,” Felicity replies, her voice barely there.

 “Did you choose to have your eggs harvested?” The Doctor asks.

 Felicity nods again, thinking back to how terrifying that had been. She’d been sixteen, and had never even thought about whether she wanted to have kids or not, but cancer had forced her to think about that, (and so many other things) and she decided that she might want to. She didn’t want to have that choice taken from her in the future, so they delayed treatment by a few weeks to store her eggs.

“Ok, good. That means we can start on treatment as soon as possible,” Doctor Michaels begins typing away on her keyboard as Felicity takes a steadying breath. She has things to do this week, and next week, and the week after that. What if she doesn’t want the treatment? She hasn’t even told her mom yet. “So I’ve booked you in for some more tests today. You have priority over our outpatients, so you have an X-ray in thirty minutes, and a lumbar puncture at eleven-thirty. Is that ok?” Doctor Michaels looks back at Felicity. 

“I guess so,” she sighs, digging her nails into her palm to focus on anything other than the lump building up in her throat. 

“I know it’s a lot, but we need to do the tests to get you the best care we can,” She is apologetic. “The X-ray and lumbar puncture are just to help us determine whether the cancer has spread any further, but they’re nothing to be afraid of.” 

“Ok,” Felicity takes a deep, steadying breath. 

“Ok. I’m printing your appointment cards now,” the printer whirs to life. “I have a free slot at two p.m., you should be done with your lumbar puncture by then, and I’m going to rush the results through so we can discuss the next steps.” Doctor Michaels hands over three business-card size pieces of paper with times and locations and appointment details on them. Felicity takes them with shaking hands, and resigns herself to the fact that this is her life now. 

\--- 

 Felicity’s X-ray is uneventful, they don’t tell her anything about the results, just that the Doctor will be able to discuss things further with her at her appointment. She has some time to kill afterwards, but decides to head up to the oncology and haematology floor to get a jump on the lumbar puncture paperwork. She saw Doctor Michaels at the outpatient clinic this morning, so hasn’t been back on the ward since Friday, and her heart jumps into her throat when she wonders whether she will see Oliver again. She isn’t even one hundred percent sure she even saw him, maybe he was some bone marrow aspiration induced hallucination.

 Felicity isn’t proud of it, but she even considered hacking into the hospital’s records to see if he was there, and why he was there, but she shoved that idea into a box in the corner of her mind seconds after thinking it. That would be a major violation of privacy, not to mention just plain creepy.

 She’s picked up her phone to text him multiple times, mostly just to say hi and to seem as casual as possible, a few times to ask him why she saw him in the hospital in his pyjamas on Friday, and once – at five a.m. Saturday morning, full of exhaustion and sickness and pain medication – to tell him all about the leukaemia, and how terrified she was. Luckily, that time, she fell back to sleep before any phone calls were made, and all of the other times she had stared at that blank message box for a few minutes before deciding it was a terrible idea, and locking her phone again. She’s sure she will bump into him again, and if she doesn’t maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

 She steps out of the elevator once it reaches her floor, lost in her thoughts and staring at her shoes, when she collides with what she’s pretty sure is a wall. She steadies herself, looks up, and realises it is not, in fact, a wall.

 “Oh.” It’s Oliver Queen. He’s really here. And his hands are on her shoulders. “Oliver?” She has, very literally, bumped into Oliver Queen.

 “Felicity Smoak.” He sounds pleased to see her, and a little confused too.

 “I’m so sorry!” She realises she’s just smashed into him and brings her hand to her forehead. “Are you ok?”

 “Am I ok?” He laughs softly, looking her up and down. He hasn’t moved his hands. Felicity can feel the warmth flooding through her clothes and into her skin, like the sun. They are big, and solid, and she kind of wants them to stay there forever. “Are _you_ ok? You look like you’re miles away.”

 “I’m fine,” she replies, a little too quickly. It’s just that Oliver Queen is holding onto her and his left thumb has started to rub small circles into her collar bone and he’s looking at her like all he wants is for her to be ok, and she can’t really find her breath.

 “You don’t look so good, Felicity.” He’s saying her name again.

 All she can think is that his eyes are a pretty color but they maybe clash with the dark circles underneath them, and that his lips look a little rough like he needs a Chapstick, or maybe some kissing.

 She stares at him for a few seconds and then remembers to blink, that it isn’t, in fact, appropriate to think about kissing your bosses son in a random hospital corridor. Felicity brings her hand down from her forehead, accidentally brushing his arm as she goes. That seems to remind him of what he’s doing, possibly because her hands are so freaking cold, and he takes a step back, bringing his own arms with him and awkwardly tucking them into his pockets. She misses the contact immediately. She frowns, and then realises he’s expecting her to say something.

 “I’m fine. I’m _fine._ Totally great,” She knows her voice sounds weird and fake but she seems to have lost all control over it. “How about you? What are you doing here?” She asks. He isn’t wearing pyjamas today, just a T shirt and jeans and a black beanie hat. Looks like she isn’t the only one missing work today.

 “Uh, me?” He rocks forward on the balls of his feet, “Yeah I just came to drop something off.” He’s nodding like he’s trying really hard to convince her.

 “Drop what off?” Felicity asks, folding her arms.

 “Some, uh… books. Donations. I was donating books,” he nods again and offers her a smile. She studies his face for a minute. She’s sure he’s lying, but she can’t say she blames him. If he has something he wants her to know about it, she trusts that he will tell her, and vice versa.

 “Right… like for the patients to read?” She plays along.

 “Yeah, exactly. That’s exactly it.” He clicks his fingers like Felicity has stumbled across a great plan, or perhaps a cover story he’s annoyed that he didn’t come up with first.

 “That’s really nice. A really nice thing to do. Good for you,” She smiles, stepping forward and patting his arm. Felicity thinks he has nice arms. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks next. The question she didn’t want. But she had sprung it on Oliver first. 

“I’m just… getting some _routine_ tests done,” Felicity emphasises the word routine and wishes she was quicker on her feet than that.

 “Routine tests? On the oncology ward?” The hint of concern has returned to his voice now. She hates that she likes it, likes that he’s worrying about her.

 "Yeah. Strange I guess,” she comments, arranging her features to look a little confused like there’s no reason in the world for the tests to be carried out here, of all places.

 “But you’re ok?” Oliver checks.

 “Yeah, I think so. Are you?”

 “I’m fantastic. Do you still have my number?” He asks, but he’s starting to walk past her now, towards the elevator.

 “Yeah.” Felicity starts to walk too, away from Oliver.

 “Remember that you can call me, anytime.” He reminds her, and he’s walking backwards now, like he doesn’t really want to go. Felicity can’t help but crack a genuine smile.

 “I’ll remember. Thank you,” she offers up a small wave as he presses the call elevator button, and he nods in return. She turns around to walk away, rolling her eyes at herself for the wave.

 “Felicity!” Oliver calls, and she whips around again. “It was nice to see you.”

 “You too!” She calls back, and then turns again and walks away, and Oliver steps into the elevator, and Felicity rounds the corner and reality crashes into her. Lumbar puncture, doctor appointment, cancer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you thought, and don't forget to come say hi on tumblr - I'm jakelovesamy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer than the others, I didn't intend for it to be, it just kind of happened! I got a comment on the last chapter asking if I have an update schedule for this fic, and I do! I intend to update it every Saturday. I am, however, in my final year at university, so if I have an approaching deadline or an exam I might be a few days late with an update but I will try my hardest to keep on schedule.  
> Thank you for the comments and kudos on the last chapter, I'm continually amazed that people actually read and enjoy something I wrote. I hope you like this chapter!

**IV**.

“The good news is, the cancer hasn’t spread,” Doctor Michaels tells Felicity later that day.

“So there’s bad news?” Felicity asks, eyes flitting between Doctor Michaels and the other two members of her treatment team who had arrived a few minutes earlier.

“Yes, but it’s not a major setback,” Doctor Michaels smiles at her. “You have a minor chest infection, which means we can’t start treatment yet.”

“Oh,” Felicity isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“We’ll put you on a course of antibiotics, and you can make another appointment for Thursday. If the chest infection has cleared up, we can admit you that afternoon to start your treatment,” Doctor Michaels tells her, whilst she writes out what Felicity assumes is the antibiotics prescription.

“Don’t worry, delaying treatment for just a few days won’t harm your chances of remission,” Doctor Wells, her medical oncologist tells her. Doctor Michaels is her case manager, Doctor Wells is her medical oncologist and will be in charge of what medications Felicity takes and how much. The third member of the team is Doctor Stein, a transplant oncologist, who will deal with a stem cell transplant should Felicity need one, which Doctor Stein explains is often necessary in relapsed patients.

“Ok,” Felicity sighs.

“Now,” Doctor Michaels puts down her pen. “Your test results show that your prognosis is fairly good. Untreated Acute Myeloid Leukaemia is usually categorised as such because your blood counts are abnormal, and at least twenty percent of the cells in your bone marrow are leukaemia cells, or blasts. “Your bone marrow is currently at forty-five percent blast cells.” Felicity swallows hard. She’s almost half made up of cancer. She doesn’t remember what her percentage was last time but forty-five percent sounds like a hell of a big number.

“You’re in good hands here, Miss Smoak,” Doctor Stein reaches across the desk to pat her folded hands.

“We have a treatment plan in place for you,” Doctor Wells tells her. “You’ll be admitted for five weeks, as a basis. That might change dependant on how well you react to the treatment. Because this is the reoccurring leukaemia, your treatment will have to be different this time, so we’re going to administer combination chemotherapy over a period of eight days, in four day segments with a two day break in between. Assuming that goes well, once you are in remission Doctor Stein will perform a stem cell transplant to prevent the leukaemia from coming back for a third time. How does that sound?” Doctor Wells finishes speaking. 

“Uh…” Felicity is trying to absorb the tidal wave of information.

It sounds painful, and gruelling, and it also sounds like her opinion doesn’t matter in the slightest, because she can go through this or she can give up the fight and let the cancer take over. And that isn’t an option at all.

\---

Felicity leaves the hospital forty-five minutes later, antibiotics in hand, head buzzing with questions and worries and a feeling of desperation. She has three days ahead of her. Three days to kick this chest infection, three days of making preparations to put her life on hold. She is not allowed to drink alcohol or do any drugs (not that she was intending on it anyway), and the doctors advise her against going to work because she might catch something or worsen her chest infection and she really needs to just rest so she is well enough for chemo. She’s building a list of things she needs to do in her head as she walks to her car. Telling work that she won’t be there for a while needs to be done, of course. Her freezer will need to be cleared out, and someone will need to water the fern in her bathroom while she’s not there. She really, really needs to call her mom.

 She formulates a plan of action as she drives home. She can’t face telling work today, telling them makes it too final, too _official._ The rest of today is hers, booked off of work, spanning out in front of her. The pressure to make the most of it is heavy, but she decides that as long as she can sort things out, make arrangements, then it won’t be a wasted day.

 That’s how Felicity spends Monday evening hopped up on coffee and scrubbing her apartment from top to bottom. It’s needed a proper clean for ages, she knows, but when she gets out of the hospital she’s going to need things to be clean because her immune system will still be low, she could get an infection- and there will be nothing in her body to fight it off. There are other reasons too, like how when she finally calls her mom, Donna will no doubt get on the first plane to Starling and will need somewhere to stay- Felicity wants her apartment to be there for her and to be clean, too. Then there’s the little thought at the back of her brain saying that maybe she can’t beat the cancer this time, and that if she can’t, people are going to be in her home, sifting through her stuff, deciding which of her life’s possessions should be kept and which can be thrown out. Felicity swallows back the lump in her throat at that thought, but spawns so many other thoughts, too.

 ‘ _Should I write a will?’_ Felicity texts Caitlin with the hand not holding the bottle of antibacterial spray as she scrubs the kitchen counters.

 ‘ _What???_ ’ Caitlin replies, the number of question marks an indication that she thinks it is a ridiculous idea.

 ‘ _Just in case?’_ Felicity replies.

  _‘No.’_ A new text from Caitlin, and then thirty seconds later, _‘I’ll just assume you want me to have all your stuff.’_ Felicity snorts, glad her best friend can find the humour in it all. That’s important to Felicity, because if you’re not laughing then you’re crying all the time, and that means you aren’t really living life at all.

 Felicity puts her phone down and decides that she really needs to clean her bedroom next, and maybe she can start packing things for the hospital at the same time. She doesn’t want to do that, because just like telling work she will need a leave of absence, packing up her stuff makes this real. But it still has to be done, so she turns on her TV, putting on a music channel full of overly cheerful singers in their happy music video bubbles, and concentrates on making her bedroom look habitable.

\---

Felicity planned on going into work to speak to her supervisor on Tuesday and inform him she needs to take a leave of absence, but when she wakes up she just can’t face that, so she just calls in sick (“ _Another_ day off, Felicity?” “Yeah. Sorry. It can’t be helped”). She waters the fern, has her antibiotic with a cup of coffee and a bagel, and decides that she needs to do some exercise because a month in a hospital bed does nothing for muscle density, but she can barely breathe after eight sit ups and her day dissolves into sitting at her laptop and researching leukaemia and what her prognosis is.

When she looks up it is mid-afternoon and she’s knee deep in antioxidant recipes that cancer survivors swear by- blueberries and spinach and weird flowers that only grow on the tops of mountains. Felicity thinks that they are a little ridiculous, but adds ‘buy blueberries’ to the list of things she needs to do anyway. She remembers her mom buying several books on ‘cancer fighting foods’ when she fought leukaemia last time around and Donna felt so helpless, that making some weird juices for her daughter was one of the only things that made her feel less so.

 Felicity is asleep by nine p.m.

\----

On Wednesday she knows she can’t put off the work thing any longer, so she wakes up early and pulls on some casual clothes; she’s not going to bother putting on work clothes for a ten minute conversation, but her hands run over the dresses hanging in her wardrobe, missing the normality they brought. Felicity has to sit in the car at Queen Consolidated for ten minutes, psyching herself up to go inside, telling herself it won’t be that bad, and then it will be done and it’s one less thing to worry about.

The IT department smells like coffee and fresh paper, and the whir of the fans and humming of machinery is familiar and comforting to Felicity as she walks to her supervisor’s office. She’s arrived early, trying to avoid stares and questions from her colleagues. The last thing she wants is to become next week’s office gossip.

Felicity pauses outside the door reading ‘Garrett Reynolds, Supervisor, IT Department.’ Garett is in his early forties but dresses like he’s in his early twenties, wears oversized glasses and skinny jeans at least two sizes too small, and has been in the same job for ten years due to him apparently having lost all motivation and quite possibly the will to live. Felicity swallows, and raises her hand, forming a fist to knock on the cool wood door.

She has done this so many times before, starting on her first day when Garrett handed her password and username information and she signed her employment contract, and most recently just last week to request a few days off. So why is it so much harder now? Her hand shakes a little as she takes a deep breath and knocks three times in quick succession.

“Come in,” Garrett’s tired voice echoes through the wood. Felicity pushes down the handle, opens the door, and steps in, closing it behind her. “Felicity. I see you’re back… and not dressed for the occasion.” He raises his eyebrows at her, scanning her black jeans and grey sweater.

“No, I…” Felicity doesn’t know what to say. She’s surprised herself.

“What’s the problem, Smoak?” Garrett picks up the rubber band ball sitting on his desk and lazily flicks it between his hands.

“I…” Felicity shifts her weight from her left foot to her right and pushes her hair away from her face. “I need to take some… some time off,” her voice is quiet and unsure.

“More time off?” The rubber band ball stills.

Felicity takes a deep breath. “I’m sick. I need to spend some time in the hospital, I’m not sure how long, a month at minimum and then I don’t know that I’ll be able to come back to work right away. And I can do a little work in the hospital, on days I don’t feel too bad, I just can’t be here. So I need to take a leave of absence, and I’ll have my doctor contact you to confirm that.” Felicity explains, talking too fast. The not knowing what to say didn’t last long.

Garrett’s eyes widen as Felicity draws to the end of her explanation, and he places the rubber band ball down on the desk. “Felicity, I-“ he sits up straighter, bringing his hand up to rub his chin. “I’m really sorry to hear that.” His voice is sombre and sincere and it makes the knots in Felicity’s stomach tangle up more. She doesn’t think that she hears pity in his voice, just concern. Pity would have been easier. Pity she’s used to, but concern makes leaving work real and cancer real and the threat of death seem suffocating.

“It’s ok,” Felicity tells him, a quiver creeping into her voice. She clears her throat.

“It’s no problem, just- just have your doctor confirm the details, and go get better. You need to get better because we really can’t do without you here, Smoak.” He offers up a wan smile. “If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.” Felicity wishes that Garrett would go back to being sarcastic and grouchy, because this is alien, this is uncomfortable and weird and the last thing she expected.

\---

Felicity leans her head against the solid concrete of the Queen Consolidated exterior, feeling the warm breeze against her skin, teasing at her hair and filling her lungs with freshness. Her meeting with Garrett is over, and the important stuff from her desk has been cleared into a cardboard box which she holds in front of her now, clutching the remnants of her normal life. She didn’t clear the desk completely – she’s going to be back in a month or two. She’s coming back for sure.

It’s a grey day with a warm breeze, warm enough for a t shirt. The air is charged with static and a little humidity, hinting at a thunderstorm. It is not the kind of day that should be spent locked in an apartment worrying. It’s the kind of day that whispers of adventure and exploration and secrets. The day is nudging Felicity towards something, something other than home and packing. Something new.

\---

The tinny ringing begins, and so does Felicity’s foot tapping as she sits in her car, window rolled down, counting the rings, anxiously waiting to see if the phone will be picked up.

“Hello?” A croaky voice answers on the fifth ring. Felicity had been so nervous about making the call that she hadn’t planned what she wanted to say should she get through.

“Oliver?”

“Felicity?” It is him. He sounds confused, like he doesn’t know why the hell should would be calling. But he told her she could, if she needed anything, and right now she does.

“Hi,” Felicity can hear the smile creeping into her own voice.

“Is everything ok?” He asks, voice becoming clearer.

“Yeah I just- you told me I could call if I needed anything.”

“I did. So what do you need?” His voice sounds far away. She doesn’t want him to be far away.

“Are you at work today?” She needs to check this first, or she’s back to square one. Everyone else she knows is carrying on with their normal routines, and will spend the remainder of daylight at work. But this is Oliver Queen. He only seems to work when it suits him.

“No. No I… I actually just woke up,” he admits, his tone sheepish.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you! I guess it is kind of early, huh?” Felicity can’t stop the images of Oliver in bed from flooding into her mind. “Or are you… with someone? Is now a really bad time?” She winces, hoping she hasn’t just destroyed any chance of a friendship with Oliver right out of the starting gates.

“No,” Oliver gives a breathy laugh, “I just had a late night last night. Alone.” Felicity kind of hates the relief she feels hearing that. Why should it matter to her if he was with someone or not? She doesn’t even know if he’s seeing someone right now, but even if he was single, Felicity doesn’t have the time, or the emotion capacity, for a relationship right now. She knows that the crush growing in her chest is only going to end in heartbreak, and that it’s quite possibly the worst timed crush she has ever had, but she can’t make it go away. And she can’t seem to _stay_ away from the source, either. “Felicity? What’s going on?” She shakes herself from her thoughts.

 “So you’re not? At work today?” Felicity shoots back at him.

 “Nope. Day off. Aren’t you?” He asks her.

 “No. Day off also.”

 “Ok. So what do you need?” Right, the reason for the phone call.

 “I kind of… have a lot of thoughts in my head right now. And I might go crazy if I have to be alone with them. And seeing as everyone I know, bar you, is doing the usual thing of being employed right now –not that that makes you _un_ usual, I just mean, you know – I was wondering if you might maybe want to hang out? With me? No pressure, if you don’t, that’s fine. You just said to call you if I needed anything, and I maybe need this…” Felicity trails off, teeth colliding with her bottom lip in anticipation. His silence is too loud.

“Where are you?” Oliver asks after seconds of silence.

“In my car,” she is reluctant to tell him she is at her place of work. There would be follow up questions.

“Can you come pick me up? Thirty minutes?” Felicity sits up straighter.

“At your house?” She is not eager to pay a visit to Queen Manor.

“Just wait at the end of the driveway. I’m not really allowed to drive right now, so I’m going to need you to work with me.”

“Why aren’t you allowed to drive?” _That’s_ the part she chooses to focus on. Felicity regrets asking as soon as she does.

“Long story. Can you come get me?”

“Sure.”

“Great. See you in thirty.” Oliver hangs up the phone, and the beeps signalling he has done so fill her ears.

\---

Oliver sends his address to Felicity and the GPS on her phone guides her to the imposing stone manor. She arrives early and parks at the end of the winding drive, the nerves building up in her stomach. She’s worried it will be weird, or awkward, or that she’ll tell him she has cancer, and he will treat her with pity and handle her with too much care, like she might break if he puts one foot wrong. She doesn’t want that. She just wants a friend, someone she can trust and joke with and be herself around. Laughing is an excellent medicine, and the more people she can do that with, the better.

A tap on the window of the passenger side makes Felicity jump, pulls her back to real life. It’s Oliver, a grin on his face, the circles beneath his eyes looking a little better. Felicity smiles back at him as he opens the door and climbs into the passenger seat of her tiny car, seeming much too large for it.

“Hi,” he’s clicking his seatbelt into place, and Felicity can’t help the way her whole face lights up.

“Hi.” She says back, and it feels like the start of something. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem,” his eyes flicker to hers. “Honestly I think I needed to get out of the house today, too.”

“Is everything ok?” She asks, tilting her head a little.

“Just my family,” he waves his hand as if it’s nothing. “So where do you want to go?” Oliver asks, and Felicity has no answer.

“I don’t really know,” she admits. “You pick.”

“Ok,” he tips his chin, looking up at the sky. “Breakfast?”

Felicity hasn’t eaten yet today, but she isn’t particularly hungry either. That’s another side effect of cancer, she remembers from last time. And soon there will be the chemo, which will force the connection between food smells and puking. It took a year for her to be able to eat anything greasy after her last round of chemo. Whilst she was in the hospital everything tasted like garbage and stung the chemical-induced sores in her mouth, and when she got out food just wasn’t appealing for a long while. So damn it, she’s going to eat as much food as she can manage today, before her taste buds reduce to nothingness.

“Breakfast it is.”

\--- 

They wind up at a diner just outside of the city limits. It’s up on a hill, and overlooks the bay and part of the city, looking peaceful and quiet with the clouds hanging low. Oliver orders waffles with bananas and maple syrup, and Felicity orders blueberry pancakes, remembering the article about the antioxidant power of blueberries. She never got around to going to the grocery store to buy any, so this will have to do. They taste better drenched in syrup, anyway.

The diner is mostly empty, a grey-haired man in a baseball cap sits across the diner from them, sipping coffee and flicking through a newspaper, and two young women sit beside the door, sharing an ice cream sundae and talking in low voices. Felicity watches the world pass outside the large window, and Oliver watches Felicity. She can see him out of the corner of her eye, his hands folded on the table in front of him, an odd look on his face. Felicity knows she made the right choice by calling him.

“So do skip work a lot?” Felicity asks him, a glint in her eye.

Oliver smiles, eyes lowering to the table. “No. Today just felt like a bad day to be stuck in an office,” he shrugs.

“Doesn’t your dad mind?”

“He’s going to log it as a ‘working at home’ day and pretend he hasn’t given up on me,” Oliver tells her, keeping his tone light. Felicity gets the feeling he feels anything _but_ light on the subject.

“He’s not going to give up on. He loves you,” Felicity knows that fathers _do_ give up on people, of course they do. Her own father did, walked out on her and her mom when she was a child, and he never looked back, never cared. He just left Donna to pick up the broken pieces, and Felicity to feel fractured for a long time, like maybe if she had just been a better daughter, her father would have stayed.

“I don’t know about that,” Oliver sighs.

“Have you told him that you hate working there?” Felicity asks.

“No,” Oliver shakes his head, “there’s no point in me doing that.” He says it quietly, almost like he doesn’t want her to hear, and then he stares intently out of the window rather than at her, like he had for the majority of the time they had been together.

“What does that mean?” She asks, voice higher in pitch than usual.

She watches his eyes glossing over the bay, mind far away, brow a little furrowed. “Nothing,” he says after a while, and then suddenly the waitress is there with two piled high plates, and the conversation moves along.

 ---

They go to the bay after that. Watching it from the window made Felicity long for salty air and the lapping of the water. The bay is run down and forgotten, litter strewn and stagnant. It’s still beautiful though, in its own way, and the water remains, unaware that it has been forgotten about. Felicity parks her car beside the wall and they both step out, drinking in the warm air.

“I didn’t have you pegged as an outdoorsy person,” Oliver comments as they begin to walk and he catches the smile on her lips.

“I don’t think I am,” she replies. “It’s just a nice day. Warm.” Felicity tilts her head to the sky and looks up at the clouds in varying dark colours. “I’m just in a good mood.”

“I can see that,” Oliver gives a low laugh, stopping whilst Felicity steadies herself and then they walk on. They fall into step.

“What did the bay used to be like? It’s been like this the whole time I’ve lived here.” Felicity can faintly imagine it in its full glory, bustling with people on a sunny day.

“It was nice. My parents brought Thea and I here a few times when we were kids. Mostly we were just left with a nanny or we had to amuse ourselves, but sometimes they’d take us on days out and we would act like a regular family. Like my parents really loved each other. So I have good memories here.”

“So it must kind of suck to see the bay looking like this.”

“If I was in charge of this town, I’d get it cleaned up. But unfortunately, I’m nobody important,” Oliver presses his lips together.

“You seem pretty important to me,” Felicity turns her smile on him.

“Do I really?” His eyebrows are raised, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

“No!” Felicity laughs, “I meant, you seem like an important person, you’re Oliver Queen! I didn’t-“

“I know what you meant, Felicity,” Oliver lets himself smile and puts a hand on her shoulder. Felicity jumps a little, feeling something like sparks from his touch. His thumb sits just below the back of her neck as he stands a little way behind her. They’re standing still now, and Felicity is beginning to get tired of walking, anyway. “Shall we sit?” Oliver nods to the bench a little way ahead of them, overlooking the water.

“Ok,” Felicity waits for him to step forward first. Just like in the hospital, her shoulder feels cold when his hand leaves, even though it had couldn’t be any colder after seconds of touch. She stares at her empty shoulder with a look of contempt until she sees Oliver turn to look at her out of the corner of her eye.

“You ok?” He asks.

“Just a little tired,” she replies, truthfully.

“You look kind of pale,” Oliver takes a step towards her as she walks towards the bench.

“I’m good. Honestly,” Felicity pushes her hair behind her ears and sits down. Oliver sits beside her, their legs and sides pressed together.

The water is still today, just bobbing a little, lapping against the wall rhythmically. There are some birds flying low over the water; gulls screeching, and black-headed terns diving for fish. The birds have no knowledge of their own mortality, they just focus on eating and sleeping and continuing on their bird family trees. Felicity watches them, jealous that they get to swoop over the city and feel the wind ruffling their feathers, and she has to spend her days stuck in a hospital room with stale air and tubes attached to her body. She knows she shouldn’t think it, that it’s important to stay positive, but she might never see the outside of the hospital again, after tomorrow. Anything could happen in there.

There’s a lump building in her throat, and then tears are welling up in eyes, and she swallows hard, trying to bury the lump and the tears along with it, but then they are falling and she’s angrily swiping them away. She was happy just moments ago, and now the realities of _cancer_ are hitting her all over again. Cancer is ugly and angry, it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give. It destroys families and rips apart friendships and takes those dreams you had stored away for a rainy day and dumps them in the trash, never to be seen again.

“Felicity?” Oliver is looking at her, his eyes wide, lips parted slightly. She wraps her arms around herself and hates cancer for ruining her last day of freedom. Isn’t the next month of treatment enough for it? Oliver reaches over and carefully takes her small hand in his large one. His hands are warmer than hers, small callouses on a few of his fingers, a tiny cut on the inside of his thumb. She wants to learn his hands, how he got the calluses and how long that cut has been there. She wants to learn his dimples when he smiles and the bumps of his spine. She settles for squeezing his hand tight and breathing the tears away. “Does this… does this have anything to do with being in the hospital?” Oliver asks quietly, his voice soft. “You don’t have to tell me. You don’t have to say anything.”

Felicity doesn’t want to say anything. She wants to sit on this bench with the handsome guy and watch the birds. She wants to go home tonight and tell Caitlin all about it and call her mom and make sure she’s ok. She wants to get to know Oliver more and go on dates with him and make him laugh and then kiss the laughter away. She wants to do all of the things she took for granted before, but she can’t. She can’t even let herself have a crush on him because that just wouldn’t be fair. But she _definitely_ doesn’t want to build a friendship on a basis of half-truths. She’s going into the hospital tomorrow and it’s not like she can explain that away. She wants to spend more time with him, yet that can’t happen if she leaves for a month with no explanations. Her thoughts all add up to ‘tell Oliver what’s happening’, but she doesn’t know how he will react, or if he will want to get to know _her_ better with all that has to happen to her now. Worst of all, what if he starts to pity her?

Felicity is not a risk taker, but life is short, and not having the chance to get to know Oliver is not something she wants to regret. So she takes a deep breath and looks him the eyes and opens her mouth to speak.

“Oliver. I- I have cancer.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! She told him. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter! Comments and kudos feed the muse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos! You're such wonderful readers! 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, the ending was kind of difficult to write but I hope I've done it justice and I hope it answers some of your questions well enough :).

V.

“You-“ Oliver’s eyes widen, and his whole face falls like his heart just broke. “You what?” His voice is scratchy and quiet. Felicity sees him swallow hard and wishes she could take back her words. 

“I have cancer. Leukaemia.” She repeats herself, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Felicity…” His grip on her hand tightens, like he’s trying to stop her from disappearing into thin air in front of his very eyes. “That’s why you were in the hospital.” It isn’t a question, and all Felicity can do is give a single nod. She feels like she has lied to him and she isn’t sure why.

“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath. “The first day that we met, I had passed out at work, in the parking lot. That’s why I was in the emergency room. And then I went to see my doctor after that and they confirmed that I had it. Cancer. The other day I was back in the hospital to have tests to see how far advanced it is, discuss my treatment plan, things like that.” She has closed her eyes now, not wanting that image of Oliver’s face to be burned into them. She hears him take a steadying breath. He doesn’t loosen his grip on her hand.

“Are you… are you ok?” He asks, voice gentle and soft.

“I’m getting there.” She sighs, opening her eyes tentatively to see Oliver is staring intently at the ground. "Prognosis is decent."

“When are you starting treatment?” He asks next.

“Tomorrow, all being well.” The suddenness of it hits her. “Wow. Tomorrow.” Saying ‘Thursday’ had felt safe and distant, an anonymous day at some time in the future, but Tomorrow is definitive and looming.

“Will you be having chemotherapy?” Oliver’s voice is clearing, returning to its usual octave. Like he just wants to absorb all of the information he can, and then later maybe he will do something with it.

“Yeah. Chemo and then probably a stem cell transplant.” Felicity relays to him.

“Do you have a match yet?”

“Nope.”

“You’ll find one.” Oliver says, like there’s no question about it. Like he’s decided they will, because the alternative is unthinkable. Felicity frowns at her feet.

“They didn’t last time.” She may as well put all her cards on the table at this point. They hadn’t looked very hard for a donor last time, because chemo had worked, and then the consolidation chemotherapy had done its job in keeping the cancer away, so there had been no need for a transplant. This time it would be different.

“Last time?” Oliver’s eyes are seeking hers again. She lets her gaze travel to his.

“When I was sixteen. I was diagnosed with leukaemia in high school, I had chemo, I beat cancer, I moved on with my life.” Felicity has become good at reducing the hardest time in her life down to a Cliff notes edition. “And then it came back.” She adds a sentence that wasn’t there before.

“Felicity I… I didn’t know.” Oliver says, like he should know everything about her.

“Why _would_ you know? Not many people do,” she points out.

“I don’t know, I just… I’m really sorry you were sick. And I’m sorry you’re sick again. I know saying I’m sorry doesn’t mean anything, but I am sorry. You’re probably tired of people saying that they’re sorry to you by now.” Oliver smiles a little at the last sentence, and Felicity can’t help but smile back, despite everything.

“It’s ok. People saying they’re sorry isn’t about me, it just makes them feel better, so they can go ahead. I’m not saying that applies to you!” Felicity waves her free hand in apology, “you seem to care, you can say sorry if you want.”

“I do care. You’re my friend, of course I care.” Oliver says quickly, and Felicity feels a little warmth tug at her heartstrings. “And the chemo is going to work. I know it is. How could it not work? You’re a fighter, Felicity Smoak. I knew that the second you started cracking jokes with me in the payphone line.”

“Thank you,” she tells him quietly. “Senor Homicide,” she nudges him and they exchange sad glances.

“Do you want to talk about it? The cancer?” Oliver asks her.

“Not today,” Felicity answers quickly. Today is for being a person in the real world. Tomorrow is for medicine and needles and questions. Oliver squeezes her hand in understanding.

They sit looking over the water for a few minutes, listening to each other’s breaths. The air is dropping a little in temperature, clouds hanging lower. Felicity thinks it might rain soon. Then the question of why _Oliver_ was in the hospital pops back into her brain. She wants to ask, but he might not want to answer. But he can say no if he doesn’t want to, and just like most of her decisions now, it sits in the basis of ‘what have I got to lose?’

“Why were _you_ in the hospital? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Oliver looks a little surprised at the question.

“Why was I in the hospital?”

“Mmhmm.”

“If I tell you, you can’t repeat it. Especially because you’re going to be at the hospital too,” Oliver tells her, and she sits up straighter.

“I won’t. I promise.” Oliver looks into her eyes as if to test whether she is telling the truth.

“Ok,” he sighs. “I have a friend in the hospital, his name is Roy, and he has cancer. And he can’t afford to pay his hospital bills, doesn’t have insurance. So when you saw me the other day, I wasn’t donating books, I was donating _money._ He was stressed about it, it was making him sicker, so I took care of it. Anonymously.” Felicity thinks about the explanation. It would make sense if the only times she had seen him there were the times he saw her too, but it doesn’t fit in with the time she saw him in the patient day room, wearing pyjamas, looking like he was trying not to hurl. But to tell him she saw him that time would feel like a major violation of his privacy.

“Couldn’t you do that online? Over the phone?” Felicity is poking for holes in his explanation. She shouldn’t, she knows that, but she is.

“It was a large amount of money and I didn’t have any of Roy’s details, so I had to do it in person.” If this really is just a cover up, he’s thought it through well.

“I can help you with that, if you wanted to donate again,” Felicity is struck with a sudden idea. Oliver Queen is a billionaire. Felicity can find those details. She might be stuck in a hospital bed, but she can still do something, still help people and make a difference.

“You can?” Oliver looks intrigued.

“Sure. If it’s online, I can find it,” she assures him. “We can help people. We can make a difference. If you want to, I mean. You’re the one with the money.”

“You would really help me do that?” Oliver asks.

“Of course I would.”

“Ok,” Oliver nods, his eyes lighting up a little. “We’ll do it. Help the people who can’t pay their bills,” he smiles at her. “But don’t push yourself too far. Whatever you can do, we will do.”

“Ok,” Felicity agrees, feeling excited about the prospect of being able to help people, not feeling so useless, not feeling like her whole life is so on hold.

They lapse into silence again, Felicity making plans in her mind about which channels she will go down to get the details she needs. She’s sure it will be easy enough, and it will be something to keep her mind occupied on days where she doesn’t feel like death warmed up. On those days she remembers that sleep is the only thing on her mind. Sleep and pain medication.

“What do you want to do now?” Oliver asks, interrupting her worrying.

“I don’t know,” Felicity hasn’t really thought about it.

“Are you tired?” Oliver checks. Felicity shakes her head. She’s not wide awake but she’s not about to fall asleep either. She has another few hours left in her. “What are you going to be unable to do while you’re in the hospital? We should go do something you won’t be able to do for a while.” Felicity presses her lips together, supressing a laugh. “Not- I didn’t mean that,” Oliver shakes his head at her.

“I know, I know,” she gives a breathy laugh. “We could see a movie? I won’t be able to go to the movies for a while,” she suggests.

“Do you do that a lot?” Oliver asks, standing up, and pulling Felicity with him.

“Not that often. It’s just always nice to have the chance, you know? There’s a lot of things it’s nice to have the chance to do.”

“Ok. A movie it is,” they walk back towards her car.

\---

The parking lot at the movie theatre is half closed for maintenance and the rest of the spaces are full. Felicity guesses this is a good time for moms with small children, and the elderly, to watch a movie, so they park a five minute walk away in a residential street. Oliver leads the way from the car to the theatre, seeming to know the whole city like the back of his hand. They walk in comfortable silence, just appreciating each other’s company, until they enter the theatre.

“What do you want to watch?” Oliver asks as they stand in the lobby and survey the movie posters and show times.

“Nothing sad.” Felicity is defiant about that. She has enough time to be sad. She wants to watch something that will make her laugh, or inspire her, or have her on the edge of her seat. Anything that will put her in someone else’s mind for a little while, without that mind being as devastating as her own.

“Grown Ups two?” Oliver suggests, nodding at the poster nearest to them.

“I never saw the first one,” Felicity frowns.

“Kick Ass two?”

“Refer to my earlier answer.”

“You never saw Kick Ass?” Oliver snaps his gaze to her.

“No. Should I have?” Felicity furrows her brow.

“Probably,” Oliver shrugs.

“Maybe we can watch it sometime,” Felicity makes an offhand comment and turns back to look at the show times. She can see Oliver looking at her from the corner of her eye, though, lips upturned a little, sadness in his eyes. He isn’t allowed to be sad. She isn’t allowing _herself_ to be sad, so he definitely can’t be. “How about…” Felicity muses, trying to decide, “We’re The Millers? One of my friends at work said it was good. It’s a Jennifer Aniston movie, how sad can that be?”

“So I’m taking that as confirmation that you’ve never seen Marley and Me either. Felicity, you really need to get out more,” Felicity punches Oliver in the arm and strides over to the ticket machines.

\---

Their knees press together for most of the movie, hands grazing over one another as they share a bucket of popcorn. Felicity isn’t the least bit hungry but she’s sticking to her idea of eating whilst she can, so she manages a few handfuls of it. She can’t get fully absorbed into the movie, partly the reality of the situation keeps popping into her mind, and partly because of Oliver’s knees knocking against hers, and the way their eyes keep meeting somewhere in the middle for no apparent reason. She’s leaning close to him, so close that the armrest digs into her side a little and that when there’s a bright moment on screen, it illuminates the tiny imperfections in his skin and she can see them without difficulty. There’s a small dent of a cut on the cheekbone closest to her, and a very faded bruise along his collarbone, barely even there. Felicity can even make out, just extending beyond his hairline, the silvery line of a scar, only just visible before it vanishes underneath his hair. She frowns at it but then Oliver is turning to look at her and she gives him her best smile.

\---

“Did you like it?” Oliver asks as they step into the bright lights of the lobby after the movie is finished. Felicity winces a little at the brightness.

“Yeah. There was no crying and it was funny, so it met the criteria. Did you?” She asks him, waiting for him as he puts the empty popcorn bucket into the trash. He ditches it and then steps back towards her, and he looks down at her as they walk towards the exit together.

“Yeah. I did,” his voice is low and sends a shiver up Felicity’s spine. If she didn’t know better, she might wonder if it was really just the movie he was talking about.

The doors to the outside open for them to the spattering of raindrops. The looming grey clouds had surrendered to their heavy weight, the water pouring over Starling in big, wet drops. Felicity stops abruptly, just short of being exposed to the rain, but giving no advance warning to Oliver, who, a step or two behind her, crashes into her back, nudging her forward a little.

“Oh!” Her foot lands in a puddle. Those shoes are most certainly _not_ waterproof. She wobbles, trying to regain her balance, but then there is pressure around her waist, grounding her. It’s Oliver’s hand. She takes a sharp intake of breath, looking down at his fingers against her jacket. His hands really are big.

“Are you ok?” He snatches his hand back like it might hurt her and steps forward to look at her. He’s standing a little in the rain now, droplets landing in his hair.

“I’m fine,” she reassures him. “Thanks for stopping me from joining my foot in that puddle.”

“Sorry. You should come with brake lights,” Oliver jokes.

“You should look where you’re going more,” Felicity winks at him and he huffs a laugh and looks up at the rain.

“I don’t think it’s going to stop anytime soon. Looks pretty set in,” Oliver notes, as Felicity watches the odd raindrop ricochet from his forehead. “Want to see if we can wait it out in here? Or I know a great coffee shop closer to your car we could go to?” He asks, squinting against the water. Felicity breathes in the scent of the rain. She knows that rain doesn’t have a scent, not really, it’s all in the way it hits the earth, but it’s beautiful and it reminds of late summer in Vegas.

“Coffee shop sounds good,” Felicity says. The air is cooler now, the rain washing out the humidity, and she’s sure that she will be cold after walking through it. The last thing she wants is to get sick.

“Ok. Ready?” Oliver is shrugging off his jacket, and he holds it above his head with his right hand and gently tugs Felicity closer to him with the other. Once she realises what he’s doing she edges closer, feeling the heat radiating from him, and he creates a canopy with the jacket using both hands, his left arm brushing her shoulders. She feels safe.

It’s not just rain, it’s a great big thunderstorm, and the thunder seems to echo all around them, shaking the whole world. A fork of lightning illuminates the skies as they make their way along the streets, feet getting tangled up, rain hitting their cheeks. Felicity watches the light streak across the sky and feels eight years old again, watching from the window of her bedroom, tucked underneath the blankets, in awe of what nature could create. That storm, she remembers, had killed their electricity for two days, and she couldn’t test out the computer she had only just finished re-building. She should have been annoyed at the storm, but she couldn’t bring herself to be angry at something that powerful, that beautiful.

They make their brief pit stop in the coffee shop. It’s called ‘Pearls’, and is decorated entirely in the muted tones of black, white, and grey, right down to the vintage movie posters dotted around the walls. Felicity orders a mug of hot chocolate and Oliver follows suit.

“I didn’t have you pegged as a hot chocolate kind of guy,” Felicity raises her eyebrows at him as they wait.

“It’s warming,” Oliver defends his choice of drink.

They settle in a booth beside the window, sitting across from each other over the white marble-effect table. Felicity stirs brown sugar into her hot chocolate and watches the rain drops race their way down the window.

“Who’s taking you to the hospital tomorrow?” Oliver asks, seemingly out of the blue. Felicity stops stirring the drink and slowly puts the spoon down beside the mug.

“My friend.” She tells him. She had been all set to drive herself but Caitlin had pointed out that she couldn’t very well leave her car at the hospital for a month, and no, there was _no way_ she was allowing her to take the bus.

“Not your family?” Oliver sounds surprised.

“It’s just my mom and me, and she lives in Vegas. And I haven’t… I haven’t told her yet,” Felicity admits, guilt solidifying in her insides.

“You haven’t told your _mom_?” Oliver sounds appalled.

“No! Last time I was sick it just about destroyed her. I don’t want to do that to her again. I don’t want her to have to see me like that,” Felicity hisses, not wanting to draw attention to them. Oliver’s face softens.

“You have to tell her. She’ll find out and then she’ll be even more upset that you kept it from her,” his voice matches his facial expression.

“How would you know?” She sighs, pushing her hair behind her ear. It had suffered a little in the rain, but Oliver’s jacket had caught the brunt of it.

“I just do. And I know you need to tell her. You need her support.” Oliver sounds so sure, like he knows what’s right for sure. Felicity knows that he _is_ right, and she kind of hates it.

“I know. I know I have to tell her. I just… can’t do it. I can’t watch her cry over me again or let her come and hold my hand for a whole month and lose her job. I just _can’t_ do it. Not yet,” Felicity tells him, and herself, and then takes a sip of hot chocolate. Oliver mirrors her. It’s warm, and frothy, and just the right amount of chocolatey.

“I get it, Felicity. Just promise me you _will_ tell her. She doesn’t need you to protect her. She’s your mother, and she’d want to be there for you.” Why does he have to be the voice of reason?

“I will,” Felicity agrees. “I promise I will.”

She takes another sip of hot chocolate as another flash of lightning illuminates the sky properly. It also lights up Oliver’s face a little better and she sees how pale he is turning. His skin wasn’t that white whilst they were watching the movie, was it? And he didn’t look _that_ tired?

“Are you ok?” Felicity checks, concern melding with the guilt.

“Hmm?” Oliver seems a little confused.

“You look kind of pale,” Felicity explains.

“I just have a headache coming.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” She asks, and Oliver seems to ponder the question for a moment.

“If you don’t mind. I just didn’t sleep well,” Oliver says, and Felicity swears she can see a little more tension settling into his features.

\---

They finish their drinks and then make their way back to her car, using Oliver’s coat canopy again to shield themselves from the persistent rain. After they reach the car and climb into the dry, Felicity spends a few minutes de-icing her hands with the heaters, and Oliver’s eyelids grow heavy. Felicity watches him, the concern turning into downright worry. This isn’t how normal, healthy people are supposed to behave. This is how she, a very sick person, has been acting for the past few weeks. She turns the heaters down and starts for Oliver’s house, with him directing her in a sleep-riddled voice.

“You can just drop me at the end of the drive,” Oliver tells her as they approach the mansion.

“No way. It’s _pouring_ , and you don’t even look like you could make it that far on a good day.” Felicity turns down the twisting drive.

Oliver starts to look a little nervous as the house looms ever-closer, twisting his hands in his lap and sitting up a little straighter. It’s not long before Felicity can make out the cars parked up next to the house. There’s quite a few cars there, most standard Queen family vehicles, one white with red and blue lights on the top. Cop car.

“Oliver. What’s going on?” Felicity asks, her mouth growing dry.

“Probably nothing,” Oliver replies, his voice a little tense.

“Probably nothing?” Felicity slows to a stop in front of the entrance to the mansion.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles at her, but she can tell his mind is elsewhere. “How are you feeling?” He asks her.

“Me? Ok. Little tired,” Felicity shrugs.

“You’re going to be fine tomorrow. You’re a fighter, remember.” Oliver’s voice is strained and she can’t hear him perfectly over the thrum of the rain beating down on the car roof.

“Thank you for today,” is all Felicity can say. They look at each other for a beat, and then –

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” The car door is wrenched open and a skinny girl with sopping wet hair is glaring down at Oliver, fury written across her face.

“Thea! I-“

“You _promised me_!” It’s Thea Queen, Felicity realises, Oliver’s little sister. “You’re too selfish to try and save your own life, we _accepted that_! But you promised us, you promised _me_ that you would do _everything you could_ to be here for as long as you could. To be here for me!” Her voice has cracked, and Felicity can make out hot tears mixing in with the rainwater on her face. Oliver is staring out of the windshield, looking like he has just had his heart stamped on. 

“Oliver?” Felicity touches his arm, struggling to understand what Thea is implying. 

“Who the hell is this?” Thea gestures at Felicity. “This who you were playing hooky from your check-ups with? You’re not in _high school_ now Ollie. This is your life you’re playing with, all of our lives!” Felicity feels her heart sink into her shoes as Thea clenches her eyes shut, broken. 

“Oliver, what is she-“ 

“I’m so sorry,” Oliver whispers, barely audible above the rain. “I’m so sorry, Felicity, I’m so sorry.” 

“Does she know? Does your _friend_ here even know?” Thea spits as Oliver makes to climb out of the car. “No! Tell her!” 

“I..” Oliver can’t meet Felicity’s eyes. 

“Brother dearest here has a brain tumor. Today… today he was supposed to find out how long he has left to live.” 

All of the air seems to disappear from the car, and Felicity feels like she has been punched in the chest. She is vaguely aware of Oliver telling her sorry over and over again, and then he’s gone, marched away by his broken little sister, and Felicity is left with the weight of the new knowledge like iron in her chest. She drives away from the mansion slowly, tears clouding her vision, trying to remember how to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I know, another kind of cliff hanger! I'm sorry! 
> 
> So this fic is set in late 2013 and I'm pretty sure those movies were some of the most popular ones around then, I love We're The Millers anyway.
> 
> And side note, this fic was inspired by the TV show Chasing Life, I didn't want to say so because spoilers, but the similarities between Chasing Life and this fic will more or less end here.
> 
> Please leave a comment/kudos :)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys soo much for the wonderful comments on the last chapter! Each and every one of them makes me smile like an idiot! 
> 
> You are getting this chapter a day early because I'm going to be at a con tomorrow :) and then I am flying a plane on Sunday! My parents got my a plane lesson for my birthday so that's going to be something ticked off my bucket list.
> 
> Uni is crazy at the minute, I have so many presentations and big deadlines so I didn't have time to refine this chapter as much as I would have liked, but hope you like it anyhow.

**VI.**

By some miracle Felicity makes it home, through the rain and her tears and the numb feeling settling into her brain. She holds it together long enough to climb the stairs to her apartment, get inside with shaking hands, and peel off her damp clothes to step into a warm shower. It’s there that she falls apart. She cries warm, fat tears, crushing the heels of her hands into her eyes to try and stop the tears from flowing, body shaking with sobs.

It’s the fact that her whole life is going to change tomorrow, the fact that she’s so tired she wants to throw up. The fact that Oliver Queen is going to die.

She’s mad at him. She’s mad that she told him she was sick and he didn’t tell her that he was _dying._ She tries to reason with herself, it is his secret, and he had no obligation to tell her really, but it still hurts that he lied by omission. But more than that it hurts because he’s her friend, because he is kind and caring and he’s paying the hospital bills of his sick friend. She’s mad at him for dying, for calling work for her and taking her to lunch and letting her spill everything to him, and he’s going to _die._ How are he do that? How dare he hurt her? It hurts like maybe her heart might give out, hurts like hell because soon, he won’t be in the world any more. She’s known him for tiniest portion of her life, and yet now there will be Oliver Queen sized hole in her world for the rest of her days.

Felicity doesn’t want to think about it but it’s all she _can_ think about. She wonders what type of brain tumor he has, when he was diagnosed, whether they tried any treatment or whether it was already too far advanced. Most of all she wonders if he was scared, if he is still scared now.

She climbs out of the shower with the beginnings of a migraine, an ache in the pit of her stomach, and three missed calls and one voice mail from Oliver. She’s pretty sure she can’t face speaking to him now, maybe not even for the rest of this day or the next one, so she throws her phone onto her bed, hard, like maybe it will understand her anger and convey it to Oliver. Felicity pulls on an old and scruffy pair of pyjamas and curls into a ball under the blankets on her bed. Everything hurts, and her brain feels fried, and there is still packing to be done but it will have to wait. It’s still light out, the rain still pattering on the windows, and on any other day Felicity would still be at work right now, just not this day, or any day for the next month, and when she was sixteen she’s sure none of this seemed so overwhelming. Felicity likes science, and she’s always been good at it, so she knows that the primary variable between cancer this time and cancer last time is the same woman she promised Oliver she would call. And while she knows she doesn’t owe Oliver anything, there’s only one voice she wants to hear right now- she scrabbles for her phone from the centre of the bed and dials her mom.

Their relationship hasn’t always been the best and growing up Felicity often felt like they didn’t even speak the same language, but without her mom she isn’t sure she would have got through leukaemia at the age of sixteen, and it’s harder without her, physically and mentally. Sometimes you just have to say screw it to being a grown up.

“Felicity, baby, I’ve been trying to call you! Where have you been?” Donna Smoak’s voice echoes at the other end of the line, sounding a little concerned and a little absent, like she’s concentrating on something else. Felicity takes a deep breath and the world corrects itself a little.

“Mom?” Felicity supresses another sob.

“Felicity? Are you ok?” The absent tone has disappeared.

“I’m… I’m ok,” Felicity sniffs.

“You’re crying! What’s happened, baby?” Her mom asks, panic beginning to rise. Felicity rubs her temple and decides that just saying it is better than beating about the bush.

“Mom, I’m sick. I’m sick again.” Felicity tries to steady her voice. She hears a sharp intake of breath and then a beat of silence.

“What?” Now there is a quiver in Donna’s voice.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Felicity says, but she isn’t, not really. She just saved her mom two weeks of heartache.

“How… how bad is it?” Donna asks, spitting the question out quickly. Felicity can imagine her shutting her eyes, bracing for impact.

“It’s not a death sentence. I’m at forty percent blasts and I start treatment tomorrow.” Felicity suddenly imagines Oliver having a very different conversation with his own mother.

“ _Oh Felicity,”_ Her mom’s voice cracks and Felicity’s heart breaks along with it. This is why she didn’t want to tell her. She didn’t want to make her cry. Felicity takes another deep breath, closing her eyes.

“Mom, where are you?” Felicity doesn’t want her mom to have to cry alone.

“At home. I- I was getting ready for work,” her voice is thick with tears, and Felicity scrunches her eyes shut tighter.

“Where’s Angie?” Felicity asks, knowing her mom’s neighbour and close friend is never usually far away.

“I don’t know, I – Felicity I’m booking a flight now, I’ll be there later tonight. I’m sorry, baby, I’m _so sorry_.”

“No, mom-“

“I have savings and I can take some time off work-“

“Mom! I’m just going to go to sleep now. There’s no point in you flying over here tonight!” Felicity raises her voice a little, trying to get her mom to see sense.

“I need to be with you, Felicity! Don’t you want me to come?”

“No of course I do,” and it’s the truth, “Just come tomorrow, ok? I’ll even book the tickets for you. I promise you I’m just going straight to sleep tonight and to the hospital tomorrow, I’ll be ok.” She can hear her mom taking shallow, tear filled breaths on the other end of the phone. All of those miles away in Las Vegas and she’s crying just the same as she did when Felicity was sixteen.

“Are you sure? I need to be there to take of you.”

“I’m an adult, mom. I’ve survived this far,” Felicity tells her mom defiantly.

“I know, baby, I’m just… I can’t believe this is happening again,” Donna sighs. “Are you having chemo again? Will that work again?”

“Yeah they’re hopeful it will. I’ll have to have a marrow transplant after, though,” Felicity informs her.

“I’m sorry I’m not a match to you. I’m sorry you don’t have any brothers or sisters to be a match either,” Donna’s voice is cracking again.

“Mom, stop saying sorry! It’s ok! They’ll find one. There are more donors on the register now than last time.”

“I hope so,” she sniffs. Felicity sighs, and wishes she was somewhere else, someone else. Wishes herself back in time so that she could be oblivious again, or forward in time so that she could be out the other side of this. But maybe, _that_ voice at the back of her head says, maybe there won’t _be_ much of a future.

“There’s new drugs new, everything’s more advanced. I told you it isn’t a death sentence. It’s just an… obstacle.”

“It’s not _fair_ , Felicity!” Felicity swallows. She knows it isn’t fair. But she’d rather it be her than someone else. Logically, she knows it doesn’t work like that, it’s not like her having cancer is going to stop a little kid, or a mom of two young children, or another scared sixteen year old like she had been from getting sick. The non-logical part of her brain whispers that she has stopped someone else getting sick though. Like there’s a cancer quota and she’s taking someone else’s slot.

“I know,” she sighs.

“You’re so brave, you know that?” Her mom says, and Felicity snorts. She doesn’t see herself as brave. She’s just doing what she has to do. Doing what the doctors tell her.

“Not really,” Felicity replies, feeling her eyes growing sorer, like they’re full of sand. “I’m gonna go, mom. I’ll book your flights and email it all over to you, ok? I don’t want you to book the wrong one again,” Felicity remembers back to the first time her mom had visited her in Starling and, being terrible at technology, had somehow booked her return flight for three hours before her outgoing flight even landed.

“Ok. Thank you, sweetie. Are you sure you’ll be ok?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Felicity tells her. “Thank you. For coming out here, putting your life on hold.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Donna gives a sharp laugh, “It’s my dud genes giving you this cancer.”

“Mom, what are you talking about? It’s not your _genes_ it’s just my unlucky biology. The doctors explained this to us before!” Felicity can barely deal with her mom’s sadness, let alone adding guilt as well.

“I know, I know,” she sighs again. Felicity rubs her eyes, trying to rub away the tiredness and failing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, ok?”

“Ok. Call me anytime in the night. I mean that, anytime if you _anything_ at all. Even if it’s just to cry at someone.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Felicity assures her, smiling a little at her mom’s words. She had thought that she was going into cancer alone, but she is anything but that. She has a list of people she could call at any time now, people who she knows would pick up and talk her through a rough spot.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Those words, just like when anyone asks her if she is ok when she’s trying not to cry, always tip her over the edge. Like it’s too much that someone cares. “Bye, mom.”

“Bye, baby.”

Felicity hangs up the phone and concentrates on her breaths, on the rain which finally seems to be letting up a little, on the sound of cars on the road outside.

She sets about booking her mom’s plane tickets. Or ticket, because she doesn’t know when her mom will want to go home, that can be sorted out later. She doesn’t want her mom to get in too early, Caitlin’s already said she is taking her to the hospital, and she may as well get settled in there before her mom arrives, so she books one which arrives in Starling for one p.m. There’s still the risk, of course, that she might not be able to start treatment because of her chest, but it feels fine and the pack of antibiotics is empty now, so she’s hopeful they can get this all over and done with.

Felicity’s eyelids are drooping as she sends over the flight details to her mom and tells her not to worry about her (she will though, and Felicity is so _mad_ at herself for making people sad), so she closes her laptop and her eyes too.

 

She sleeps fitfully, waking up at eleven p.m. and one a.m. for no particular reason, and then jerking awake at two-thirty and rushing to the bathroom to throw up. She’s not sure if it’s because she ate all of the food against the wishes of her appetite, or if it’s just a cancer thing with the food being of no consequence. Either way, she’s brushing her teeth and looks at her red-rimmed eyes in the mirror at stupid a.m., and the only thing on her mind is the voice mail from Oliver Queen. She should ignore it. She knows she should ignore it. She _wants_ to ignore it. But it’s there, sitting beside her bed, screaming to be listened to. He hasn’t called her again since he left the voicemail, so obviously it’s important, something he really wants her to listen to. Felicity wonders if it’s an apology, or an explanation of why he didn’t want to tell her, or him asking her to call him, or something else entirely. And then, because it’s two-thirty in the morning, the irrational thoughts show up. Thea had said that Oliver was terminal. So however long he has left to live, he’s really sick. What if the message was Oliver telling her he was being rushed to the hospital, or that he found out how long he has left to live and it’s only a week or something, or what if the message isn’t from him at all but paramedics who called her because hers was the last number called?

Felicity spits, rinses out her mouth, and rushes to pick up her phone, telling her heart to stop pounding so fast, that it’s just going to be Oliver saying something or other.

“Felicity.” It’s him, not a paramedic or a doctor. Felicity breathes a sigh of relief, and listens to Oliver take his own breath in the message. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I’m sick, even after you told me that you are. I’m sorry you had to find out from my sister. Most of all I’m sorry that I have dragged you into this horrible mess. My life isn’t easy, and it isn’t…” Felicity listens as he clears his throat. “Because of how things are, I couldn’t… I can’t let myself get too entangled in your life. In the lives of anyone who I could _really_ care about.” He pauses again, and Felicity can feels tears edging their way into her eyes again. “I like you Felicity. I think you’re intelligent, and funny, and so beautiful. And I know you’re going to get better, the chemo’s going to work, you’re going to find a marrow donor. _You_ are going to get better, and become CEO of a company, maybe even my father’s. You’re going to grow old. I am not. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I hate it. I _hate_ it, Felicity, hate that I’m not going to do all of the things that everyone else gets to do, that I shouldn’t get close to new people because I’m only going to hurt them. I hate that I let myself get close to _you_. I hate that I want to keep you in my life.” Oliver sighs and clears his throat again, and there are tears carving a pattern down Felicity’s cheeks. “I’m not going to call you again, you probably don’t want to hear from me. But if you’d still like to help me with donating money, that would be wonderful. I’ll probably see you around the hospital anyway, but please call me back…so that I can explain… if you want to. I’m sorry. Good luck for tomorrow, you’ll be fine. I… bye, Felicity.”

Felicity keeps the phone pressed to her ear, her heart aching, as the recorded voice asks her if she wants to save the message, delete it, or listen again. It asks her twice before she presses ‘one’ for listen again.

“…I’m sorry. Good luck for tomorrow, you’ll be fine. I… bye, Felicity.” Felicity’s breath catches in her throat and her hand flies to her mouth, suppressing the urge to sob again. She’s all sobbed out. She saves the message, although she isn’t sure why. It just feels important, like something she should do. The right thing.

Oliver is sick. Dying, Oliver is dying. Felicity thinks about how hard that must be to hide from everyone. She assumes his family all know, and close friends too, but all of the people he interacts with at work every day, and all of the press, they just think he’s fine, that everything is normal with him. Felicity doesn’t keep up to date with celebrity gossip all that much, she has more important things to think about, but she doesn’t remember even seeing anything about Oliver being in the hospital or looking sick in the headlines. A quick Google search from her phone pulls up an article from a few days ago- the Sunday before she saw him the hospital. It’s just images of Oliver and his parents and sister attending some brunch, standing in front of a restaurant sign with tense smiles on their faces. She scrolls down the page of the news site she’s on, looking for _something_ , but it’s all just paparazzi pictures with designers talking about what he wore or theorizing about why he cut his hair. The only article which stands out to her is one from six months back about the Queen family donating some money to the children’s oncology unit at Starling General, but that isn’t linked back to Oliver in the article. Felicity does notice that there aren’t that many pictures of drunk Oliver, or Oliver surrounded by a variety of girls, or Oliver’s mug shots in the news these days, but she wonders if that has something to do with the death of his best friend, Tommy Merlyn, who died over a year ago. She wonders how long Oliver has known that he was sick and if Tommy knew. But she doesn’t supposed it matters now, because Oliver’s going to be in the ground, too, before long, and it’s _not fair_. Half of her wishes she had never met Oliver Queen, that she had gone outside to use her cell phone rather than stood in line for the payphone, but the other half is so, so glad she did get to meet him. Glad she got to know who he really was. She imagines, in an alternate universe, hearing that Oliver Queen had died, weeks or months or one year from now. Maybe she would have heard from a friend or her boss, or on the radio, or scrawled across the newspapers in the grocery store. Felicity thinks she would have been sad- had she never met him- that he died, but that would be it. Just a fleeting sadness, a quick thought, in a day stuffed with whatever else was going on, be that cancer treatments or deadlines at work.

As she lets go and falls back into sleep, Felicity thinks that somehow, that makes her so much sadder than the thought of losing him having known him.

\---

Felicity wakes up at seven-thirty, eyes itchy with tiredness, a sense of dread hanging over her. There’s so much to do, and she just wants to stay in bed for the whole day, and maybe the next one, too. _Her_ bed, not a hospital bed with a bag of chemicals hanging next to her, machines beeping at all hours of the day and night. Once her feet have hit the ground and she’s pulling herself up, she realises she won’t be back in her bed for weeks, and the sadness sets in for the day.

It swims in her mind as she gets dressed and finishes packing, tidies her last few things away, eats some toast and then washes her plate. She waters the fern for the last time and attaches a sticky note to it so her mom won’t forget to do it for her, puts on her shoes, and swallows the lump in her throat as she waits for Caitlin to show up. It hurts, leaving her whole life behind, but it helps that her apartment will be lived in, at least for part of the time she won’t be there. That way it won’t have that horrible empty feeling about it when she gets back.

Caitlin shows up five minutes earlier, and Felicity lingers in her doorway, running her fingers along the wall, saying goodbye. She’ll be back. She knows she will. But what if she isn’t?

Either way, she looks at her feet as Caitlin drives away from the apartment building, not wanting to see it disappearing in the mirrors.

“I got you something,” Caitlin announces as she turns off the engine outside the hospital.

“Really? You didn’t have to do that!” Felicity protests, feeling a little guilty.

“It’s just something small, something I wanted to get you,” Caitlin insists, and reaches over Felicity to the glove compartment. She pulls it open to reveal a small pink box with a bear imprinted on the lid.

“What is it?” Felicity asks, smiling over at Caitlin.

“Open it,” Caitlin tells her.

Felicity does, picking it up and flipping the lid. Inside is a bracelet, woven of dark blues and indigos and turquoise, with a splash of orange for good measure. There are three small white beads woven into it- the letters B F F. It’s a friendship bracelet.

“Caitlin!” Felicity beams, “I love it!” She pulls it out of the box.

“Really?” Felicity nods enthusiastically. “I just wanted to do something to show you I’m here for you, and I always will be. I used to make them in high school,” she laughs.

“It’s perfect. Help me put it on?” Felicity holds out her wrist.

“If you need anything, let me know, ok? I know I’m not going to be able to visit you all the time, sometimes you’ll be too sick, but you can always call me, or email me. You’re going to get through this, and when you do we’ll go to that dumb karaoke night again and I’ll sing any song you want,” Caitlin ties the bracelet on and squeezes Felicity’s hand.

“Thank you. So much,” Felicity reaches over and gives Caitlin an awkward hug across the gearstick. “I’ll miss you!”

“You won’t have to, I’ll be here. I always will. You’re my best friend.”

\---

Once Doctor Michaels calls Felicity into her office, Caitlin leaves for work. She’d insisted she should stay, but Felicity had told her to go, that nothing interesting would be happening here, and she’ll update her later on.

Felicity sits down anxiously in the office, waiting for Doctor Michaels to close the door, make her way around to the other side of the desk, and open up a file on her computer. Felicity looks around the office, noting the framed photographs on the wall, studying them like she hadn’t before. There aren’t many there, but the largest hangs on the right hand wall of the office, showing Doctor Michaels in a smart purple dress, smiling like she never thought she could be that happy. Holding her hand and smiling down at her is a tall, dark skinned man in a suit, who is looking at the doctor like she is his entire world. Felicity aches with longing, looking at that photo. Longing because she wants that, and maybe she won’t ever get it, longing because now she knows someone who _certainly_ won’t ever get that. Oliver will never get to grow old with someone.

Felicity’s eyes find another picture, not in a frame, taped to the side of the computer closest to her so that she can just make it out. It’s an ultrasound. Oliver Queen will never get to have children, either.

“Felicity?” Felicity jumps a little and her eyes meet the doctor’s. “I asked how you were feeling?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m ok, my chest feels fine,” Felicity nods. “Do you have kids?” Felicity asks, and immediately feels rude, because there’s no pictures of kids in this room, so what if something terrible happened and that ultrasound is the only evidence that the doctor’s kid ever existed? “Sorry, I shouldn’t – you don’t have to –“

“I don’t have any kids. But I’m pregnant, due in March,” Doctor Michaels smiles, and Felicity breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” Felicity realises what she has said when she sees the confused expression on the doctor’s face. “Sorry, I meant to say congratulations! Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you gonna find out? I think I’d want to, I know people say they want it to be a surprise but how much of a surprise can it really be? It’s going to be one of two possibilities, right? And if you can find out then you can plan stuff better?” Felicity realises she’s babbling and slams her mouth shut. She isn’t here to talk about babies, she’s here to find out if she can start treatment today. “Sorry, Doctor Michaels. I have a tendency to do that. Talk too much. Especially when I’m nervous.”

“That’s ok, Felicity,” the doctor gives a breathy laugh. “And please, call me Lyla.”

“Ok. Lyla.” Felicity smiles.

“I don’t know if we’re going to find out, haven’t decided yet,” Lyla tells her. “Can I listen to your chest?” She asks, standing up.

Felicity nods and stands up too, and the doctor presses a cold stethoscope to her back. After a few minutes of moving it around and asking Felicity to cough, take deep breaths, and hold her breath, Lyla withdraws the stethoscope.

“Sounds like you’re all clear,” she announces. “You’ll need to go for an x-ray now, and if that’s clear then you’re good to go, we’ll get you settled in.”

“Wow. Ok,” Felicity takes a deep breath and lists all of the reasons in her head why it’s a good thing that treatment is starting today.

 

The X-ray is clear, and not an hour after arriving at the hospital, Felicity is standing at the reception area on the oncology ward, waiting for a nurse to take her to her room. This is going to be where she lives for the next month, right here on this ward. There are pumps full of hand sanitizer at every door, and the background noise is machinery beeping and whirring. The area is relatively quiet but there are doctors walking through the area and a few nurses filling out paperwork atop the reception desk. Felicity can see the day room from where she stands, today the seats near the door are occupied by a group of old women playing cards. Leaning against the doorway of the room, however, is the boy she saw before, same red hoody, but paired with grey sweatpants today. She wonders if he’s Roy. He’s on the phone, talking quietly into it and staring intensely at the ground as if he wishes it would swallow him up. She can’t really hear what he’s saying over the phones of the reception desk and the old women talking through their card game, but she catches snatches of an apology and kind of wants to give the kid a hug.

“Felicity Smoak?” Felicity spins around to face a tall man in a nurse’s uniform, holding a stack of papers. She realises quickly that he’s the man from the photograph in Lyla’s office. Probably, she thinks, he’s the father of that baby from the ultrasound.

“The one and only,” Felicity says, stepping towards him. He offers her a kind smile and she instantly decides that she likes him.

“I’m John Diggle, I’m a nurse here. Nice to meet you, Felicity. I only wish it were under better circumstances,” he reaches out to shake her hand, and she accepts.

“That’s ok. It’s nice to meet you too, John,” she says.

“Shall I show you your room? The porters already bought your stuff up from Lyla- Doctor Michaels’ office.”

Felicity follows John past the day room and down a short corridor, where they enter into an open space, John pointing out the nurse’s station on the right-hand side, and then turn left into a door-filled corridor.

“This one’s yours,” John pushes open the third door on the right. He steps in, and Felicity follows.

The room is small and mostly clinical looking. There’s a bed in the centre of the room with blue blankets, the same colour as the wall it sits against – all of the other walls are painted white. There’s a TV mounted on the wall across from the bed, a red armchair next to the bed, and a wood-effect cupboard sitting in the corner. It’s a bright room, illuminated by a large window filling up most of the wall opposite the door, white blinds hanging at either side of, and there is a couch in front of the window. True to John’s word, Felicity’s things sit beside the couch. “What do you think?” He asks as she looks around.

“No penthouse?” Felicity jokes.

“Unfortunately this is the best we’ve got, and it comes with a stack of paperwork,” he hands it over, looking apologetic.

“Ouch,” Felicity grimaces, flipping through it.

“Most of your details are in your medical records, these are just to confirm them,” John explains, as Felicity begins to spread them out on the bed. There’s ones about her address and phone numbers, next of kin, what medications she’s on, about her height and weight, how much exercise she gets, and a meal card at the back, John explains she will get one every morning and she has to tick what she wants for her evening meal on it and return it to the nurse’s station.

“Ok.” Felicity sighs, and turns to sit on the bed and fill them out.

“Bring them to the nurse’s station afterwards and I’ll give you an ID bracelet. And you’re booked in to get your central line at three this afternoon, that’s the earliest the anaesthetist was available,” John informs her.

“Great,” Felicity was not looking forward to having a line permanently stuck into her chest, but that was at least better than being stabbed with a needle every time she needed medication.

“If you need anything, come find me,” John squeezes Felicity’s shoulder and leaves her to fill out the paperwork.

When she really gets down to it, there isn’t that much actual writing to do. A lot of the sheets of paper are just explaining how to fill out the forms, or explaining how procedures are carried out so that Felicity can sign at the bottom as an agreement to say that if she needs them, the hospital can provide them. There’s also a stapled together collection of papers explaining how the ward runs day-to-day, like how vising hours are from two p.m. till five-thirty, and then seven p.m. to nine, and that lunch is brought at one p.m. every day and dinner at six. And, most importantly, the wifi password.

When she’s nearing the end of the forms, there’s a knock at the door. It’s open anyway, and Felicity looks up to find a woman there, looking about her age, wearing a beautiful blonde wig.

“Knock, knock,” the woman takes a step into the room, smiling at Felicity. Her voice is a little hoarse, like she hasn’t slept for days.

“Hello?” Felicity puts the sheet of paper she’s holding down and hops off of the bed.

“Hi,” the woman is standing in front of her, smiling like she recognises Felicity. “I’m Sara. You must be Felicity.” It’s not a question.

“Uh, yeah. I am,” Felicity replies, brow furrowing a little in confusion.

“I’m Oliver’s friend.” Sara says by way of explanation.

“Oh!” It makes sense to Felicity now. “But you’re not Roy.”

“Huh?” Sara frowns. Felicity remembers that Oliver had sworn her to secrecy about the donation thing, and realises that Oliver’s a patient here, anyway. He probably knows everyone here.

“Nothing,” Felicity shakes her head.

“Right. Oliver told me you’d be getting here today. Leukaemia right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Liver, spread to my lungs.” Sara tells Felicity like she’s telling her what her major was in college, like it’s just a part of her life. But Felicity _knows_ how serious lung cancer is. She doesn’t know exact statistics but the five year survival rate is one of the lowest. Probably still higher than the type of cancer Oliver has, though. “You done with those?” Sara nods at the papers.

“Oh, yeah, pretty much,” Felicity pushes them together and picks them up.

“Do you wanna come meet everyone?” Sara points in the general direction of the day room. Felicity hadn’t been expecting to meet anyone in particular today, just to settle in and get all of the initial testing and preparations done. But Sara is looking at her hopefully, and she’s there to help her on Oliver’s suggestion. Felicity is still angry and hurt over Oliver, but the feelings are slowly fading into wanting to see him again, or speak to him at least, to ask him all of the questions buzzing in her head and to ask him how he is. She can’t deny that she loves spending time with him, that he makes her think about something other than being sick. Besides, Sara is her own person, just trying to do a nice thing for the new girl on the ward.

“Ok,” Felicity decides, and follows Sara from the room to meet the people she will be seeing every day for the next month.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment/kudos if you liked it! There was no olicity interaction this time but there is plenty to come, I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty dialogue heavy which I hope is ok. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the lovely comments and the kudos, you are all amazing readers! Hope you like this chapter.

VII.

People going through the same thing you are, are the only ones who can really understand it. Understand your worries and fears, the pains, the moments which make you want to quit and the moments which make you proud to be a human being. When Felicity was sixteen, it was the other kids on her ward who understood her. The girl in the room next door to hers was an aspiring ballerina, a year younger than her, and knew exactly what to say on days when Felicity didn’t think she had the strength to carry on. The twelve-year-old boy down the hall knew exactly how to make Felicity laugh when that was the last thing she wanted to do. The kid with neuroblastoma could always source whatever food Felicity felt like eating that day, on the days when she felt like eating at all, no matter how obscure. The patients, and the doctors and nurses, and her mom and the other moms all watching their lives come unthreaded, got her through. As she steps into the day room on the Starling General oncology ward, all she hopes is that the people here can do what those kids did, and make her see a chink of light on the darkest days.

The room is relatively quiet when they enter, the old women having finished their card game. Two of them are napping in their chairs, one is knitting, and one is reading a magazine. There are three middle aged men at the back of the room talking quietly, and several women about her mom’s age sitting around a table in the centre of the room playing a board game. Sara, however, heads to the right-hand corner of the room, near the TV, which is mounted on a wall. There are a few couches and chairs arranged around it with a rectangular table in the middle of the area. Three of the seats are occupied.

“Hey, guys?” Sara calls to the people in the corner as they approach. Three heads turn to look at them. “This is Oliver’s friend, Felicity.” Oliver’s friend. Sara is introducing her as _Oliver’s friend._ The three people are looking at her as she and Sara come to a stop beside them. One of them is red hoodie kid, hood still up. There’s a skinny guy with long legs sitting next to him wearing a bright yellow hoodie with a black beanie hat, and on a chair along from them is a dark skinned girl with a big smile.

“Hi,” Felicity smiles, trying to look like a nice person, which she knows is stupid because there is no such thing as a ‘nice person’ look.

“Hi,” hoodie kid nods at her and shoots her a small smile. “Roy.” So this _is_ Roy. This is the kid Oliver’s been taking care of, making sure he doesn’t have to worry about anything except getting better. Roy looks like he has a whole host of worries though, painted across his face, and Felicity feels a sudden rush of affection for Oliver, for taking something huge off this kid’s plate.

“I’m Barry,” the guy sitting next to Roy says next, shuffling forward in his seat to extend a hand to Felicity. She takes it, and they shake hands. “Sorry, I’d stand up but my leg-” he nods at his leg as if Felicity is supposed to understand.

“Osteosarcoma,” Sara tells Felicity with a wince.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Felicity tells him, despite not liking the words much, because what else can you say to someone in too much pain to stand up?

“It’s ok,” Barry smiles sadly, “none of us are here on vacation.” He lets go of Felicity’s hand.

“This is Kendra,” Sara wanders over to the girl in the chair and sits down on the couch to the other side of her.

“Hi!” Kendra does stand up, and steps over to Felicity, reaching out to hug her.

“Hi,” Felicity smiles, hugging Kendra back.

“I’m sorry you’re here,” Kendra tells her, before letting go and edging back to her seat.

“We’re all in the same boat,” Felicity says, as she sits down next to Sara.

“So, are you having chemo?” Barry asks, leaning forward in his seat a little to see Felicity.

“Yeah,” she tells him in a quiet voice. The four of them wince a little.

“Rough ride,” Roy chips in.

“I know,” Felicity says. “I went through it before, when I was a teenager. Now it’s back again.”

“Shit,” Kendra utters.

Felicity looks around at their faces, but she doesn’t see pity like she expects. She doesn’t see awe either, which is what some people’s faces read. Instead, she sees a kind of solidarity. A grim expression which says they get it, they understand the ins and outs and the realities of _cancer._ That they know how scary all of the blood tests and surgeries and side effects are. That they’re sorry, that they wish she didn’t have to be there, that they wouldn’t wish it on their worst enemy. Most of all, it says we are standing here with you. The sea is choppy but the boat is still in one piece.

After that, Roy turns up the volume on the TV, and it’s some terrible reality TV show which makes Felicity feel both bitter and relieved, an unfamiliar mix of emotions. She fiddles with the ID bracelet around her wrist, the one she exchanged for the paperwork before arriving in the day room. It’s strange, wearing the white bracelet. It tells her minimum details to anyone who wants to know. Name, date of birth, gender, ward number, hospital, blood type, doctor, day of admission, and a barcode and serial number. All printed in tiny black lettering. Like her body isn’t her own any more. She supposes that it isn’t really, it won’t be for a while, because it’s a battleground between cancer and chemo now. The ID bracelet sits next to the friendship bracelet though, and that’s enough to retain a spark of hope, some excitement for the future.

“You finished your next comic yet?” Roy pipes up after the lunch trolley comes around, but Felicity isn’t allowed to eat anything now until after her surgery. They’re back in their seats, picking their food apart.

“Almost.” It’s Sara who replies.

“Comic?” Felicity wonders if Sara reads them, writes them, whatever.

“Sara’s our resident artist. She’s brilliant,” Barry throws a wink at Sara who tosses her rolled up napkin at him.

“She really is,” Kendra adds.

“It’s just something to make the kids’ stays a little brighter,” Sara shrugs.

“What kind of comics? Do you write them all the time?” Felicity wants details.

“Awesome comics,” Barry supplies.

“We’re all in ‘em,” Roy tells her.

“You are?” Felicity asks.

“I have to take my inspiration from somewhere,” Sara says, a little defensively. “I do one a week.” She begins to explain to Felicity. “I draw them in pencil, then add all the colouring, details, and words on my laptop. Then we print a bunch out and take them to the kids cancer ward.” Sara stabs the straw into her carton of orange juice.

“Could… could I see one?” Felicity asks, eager to look at Sara’s creations.

“I’ll bring one by later.”

“Thank you!” Felicity smiles. “What are they called? The comics?”

“Black Canary.”

\---

They watch the start of an old Western movie. Day time TV sucks – always has, always will. Felicity checks the status of her mom’s flight, expecting her to arrive at the hospital around two, after collecting her bag, hailing a cab, making her way to the hospital and then finding Felicity’s room. The flight is delayed, though, by an hour, so it’s looking unlikely that she will get to see her mom before the procedure now. Somewhere around one, Kendra leaves to have some medication, and then a nurse comes in with a wheelchair and wheels Barry off somewhere.

“Poor guy,” Sara sighs as Barry disappears around the door.

“Is he…?” Felicity doesn’t want to say the word. But they all know what she means. Terminal.

“Not yet,” Roy shakes his head. “He’s got a big surgery in two days though. His leg gets the axe,” Roy mimes sending an axe through his knee. Felicity can’t help the sharp intake of breath she takes.

“For real?” Sara and Roy nod. “But he seems so… put together.”

“He doesn’t like to show his emotions much,” Sara shrugs.

“Does anyone?”

“I guess not, Barbie,” Roy pulls his hood up higher and sinks lower into his chair. Felicity frowns a little at what is apparently her new nickname.

She feels positively healthy in comparison to the inpatients here. They’re all _sick_ , visibly so. So much sicker than her. And yet they all seem to be managing ok.

Felicity wonders why her mom hasn’t called or texted to let her know the flight was delayed. She’s allowed her phone in here, but reasons that maybe her mom didn’t know that, or was busy worrying about things and didn’t think to let her know. She has mixed feelings about her mom being here. It’s a relief, a weight off of her shoulders, to know that she won’t have to feel quite so alone in this, that her mom will be there to hold her hand and tell her what to do when she has no idea. But it’s going to be hard, too, like her life won’t be hers anymore. Like it’s only big enough for one person but now two will be squished into it in close quarters. Felicity knows they will make it work though. They always do.

Music makes Felicity look up, and Roy is pushing himself from his seat.

“Sorry. Got to take this,” he waves his phone in front of him, and she doesn’t miss the anxious look in his eyes. He looks even more tired now than he did earlier, like exhaustion has burrowed into his bones and intends to stay there.

“Is he ok?” Felicity asks Sara once Roy has left.

“Oh, yeah, just girl problems,” Sara says. “Cancer has this way of destroying everything good in your life. Relationships included.” Sara is nonchalant again, like cancer is completely normal to her. Felicity really wonders just how long she has been sick, because Felicity has never, ever, allowed herself to see cancer as _normal._ Maybe Sara has been sick for a really long time, Felicity doesn’t know. She does know that you see the world differently when you’re seriously ill though, that you think differently and observe others differently, your goals and dreams evolve, and so does your attitude to life. Maybe Sara is never going to get better. If that’s the case, she would _have_ to accept her cancer as a part of her, because it would be, for the rest of her life. A horrifying part of her, but a part of her all the same.

“Sara!” There’s a call from the entrance of the day room, and a man in a suit is walking towards them, carrying a bouquet of paper flowers.

“Dad!” Sara’s face lights up, and she stands up, walking towards her father.

“Hey, baby,” he reaches Sara and they throw their arms around each other. “How you doing?”

“I’m ok, I’m ok. How was your trip?” Sara’s voice is muffled in her father’s shoulder.

“Oh, y’know. Pretty boring, but it’s done now. I won’t have to go away again.” They’re holding onto each other like they are all one another has in the world. It makes Felicity’s chest ache a bit. “Laurel been by?”

“Yeah. Every day,” Sara says, and they break apart. “Oh, sorry, dad, this is Felicity. She just checked in,” Sara gestures to Felicity, who stands up to shake his hand. “Felicity, this is my dad, Quentin Lance.”

“Hi, Mr Lance,” Felicity smiles.

“Nice to meet you, Felicity,” he smiles back. His eyes are kind. “Sorry you’re sick.”

“It’s ok,” she sighs.

“He had to go away with work for a few days,” Sara tells Felicity as her father hands over the bouquet of flowers. Sara takes them and squeezes his shoulder.

“I hate to leave her but, you know. Duty calls. You got family?” Mr Lance asks Felicity.

“My mom’s flying in today.”

“That’s great. Send her my way if she need someone to- to talk to or anything,” he tells her, and Felicity is guessing he means ‘if she needs a shoulder to cry on’.

“Ok. Thank you,” Felicity smiles sincerely. Her mom will need someone who understands what she is going through, just like Felicity does.

“Wanna take a walk?” Sara asks her dad.

“Yeah,” he nods, “you need to update me,” he says that bit a little quieter. Sara nods.

“Will you be ok?” Sara checks with Felicity.

“Sure. I have my procedure soon, anyway.” Nerves knot in her stomach.

“Ok. Good luck. I’ll see you later,” Sara pats Felicity’s arm as she walks away with her father. Felicity watches them go, and loneliness beginning to bite.    

\---

Felicity goes back to her room after that and unpacks some of her things, putting her clothes into the cupboard and drawers, plugging her laptop charger in, and sticking the string of fairy lights up on the wall. The hospital can be pretty depressing, and she wants to brighten up her room as much as she can.

Before she knows it, a nurse named Louisa arrives to prep her for surgery, presenting her with a thin blue hospital gown and going through the pre-surgery questionnaire. It’s all pretty much the same as she remembers it; the whole ordeal of getting the port placed in her chest. After the questionnaire she changes into the gown, and then John Diggle arrives and injects Felicity with a relaxant, which makes her head swim a little, and then he and a porter take her down to the operating theatre.

“How you feeling?” John asks her as they step into the elevator.

“Like I want this to be over,” Felicity replies, trying not to feel too disorientated by the lights above her head.

“It will be soon enough,” he tells her.

Two new doctors carry out the procedure, not ones she has been introduced to before. They act quickly and carefully, injecting her with the local anaesthetic and asking if she can feel any pain. There are two nurses there, John who keeps her talking and makes sure she’s ok, and a red-haired woman who hands over instruments when the doctors ask for them. The anaesthetic works, like it always has for her, put she can still feel a tugging sensation in her chest, the sensation of skin being cut and the foreign tube being pushed inside. John talks her through it all but she tips her head back, not wanting to see this physical evidence of sickness.

“Can we talk about something else?” Felicity asks as the tugging sensation changes again.

“Sure,” John squeezes her hand. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You and Doctor Michaels. Are you a thing?” John chuckles at that.

“How’d you know that, super spy? Sara tell you?”

“The picture in her office. _Pictures_. You’re going to be a dad,” she smiles up at him.

“You got me there.” He smiles back.

“Are you excited?” She asks, watching his expression change from amused to something else, with a far off look in his eyes and the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Yeah. I am.” She barely knows the guy but she’s certain he’s going to make a wonderful father. She wonders fleetingly whether she will ever have a child, and if she does whether she will get to see that look in its father’s eyes. She hopes so.

“I’m just going to give you some stitches now,” one of the doctors tells her, and they stop talking.

 

There is an x-ray once everything is done, to check that the port is in place correctly, and then Felicity is back in her hospital room, left with the strange feeling of tubing implanted in her chest and a spinning sensation filling her brain, like the whole world is turning too fast on its axis. John leaves last, promising that he will return in fifteen minutes, and that she should press the call button if she needs anything or starts to feel weird. She feels hazy, floaty, like she maybe isn’t really there, or maybe nothing is real at all. Her thoughts wander of their own accord, and of course they land on Oliver. It’s the scratchy hospital gown that does it. They talked about these stupid gowns on the day that they met. She wishes she met him before, years ago, when they were children. That way they would have had years and years to be in each other’s lives. He’s years older than her, he’d have graduated high school by the time she started, but they would have had elementary school, and she knows he would have stopped anyone who made fun of her back when she was tiny, anyone who called her a geek with malice in their eyes, the boys who pushed her in the playground when she was six and cut her knee. Maybe, she thinks, he would have been her first kiss, or maybe they would just have been best friends. It doesn’t matter. They would have known each other.

“Felicity!” Suddenly, there is a presence in the room, and Felicity swims up through the fog to turn to the door. Arms are on her, a screen of blonde hair. Her mom is her. She finally made it.

“Mom,” Felicity croaks, groggy and slow. Her mom hugs her carefully, avoiding the newly implanted port, avoiding pulling Felicity’s hair, not squishing her at all. It’s exactly what Felicity needs.

“My flight was delayed, I’m so sorry,” her mom says into Felicity’s hair, voice flooded with relief.

“It’s ok. You made it here,” Felicity whispers, feeling a sense of safety.

“Of course I did,” Donna finally steps back to look at Felicity properly. “How are you, baby?” She asks.

“Million dollars.” That makes her mom laugh a little.

“You’re the bravest person I know, sweetie.” She says, stroking back Felicity’s hair away from her face.

“Not me,” Felicity shakes her head a little. “Oliver.”

“Who?”

“Oliver,” Felicity repeats, but then the day seems to catch up with her, mixed with her throbbing head and the spinning room from the anaesthetic, and her eyelids fall shut, and she is asleep.

\---

The sun hangs low in the sky when she wakes up, blinking at the light coming in through the big window, bathing the room in a golden film. Her head still hurts a little, throbbing around the temples, and her eyes hurt too. The worst is the pressure in her chest, like a ton of bricks was just sitting there, and now they’ve been moved but only just. When she moves her head to the other side it’s like all the muscles are being pulled on, so she tries to move as slowly as possible. Her mom is there. She had forgotten about that. Donna sits on a chair to the left of the bed, flicking through a glossy magazine and scratching at the space around her thumbnail with her front teeth. It’s a nervous tick that Felicity picked up on as a kid and never gave up on. Her foot is tapping a little too, like she wants to pace the room but knows that would be counterproductive. Felicity clears her throat a little, wishing she had a drink, and her mom turns quickly to look at her, eyes wide.

“Felicity?” She asks quietly, as if a loud voice might break her.

“I’m ok, mom,” Felicity assures her and tries to sit up a little more, struggling against the pressure in her chest.   
“Here,” Donna presses the button behind Felicity’s head which moves the bed up further into a more upright position.

“Thanks,” Felicity shuffles back against the pillows, getting comfortable.

“You want some water?” Felicity nods, and Donna produces a bottle out of her bag, opening it and handing it to Felicity, who drinks with a shaking hand.

“Thank you,” Felicity hands it back and surveys her mom properly for the first time. She’s tired, and worried, and full of stress. Felicity can tell because her mom’s hair is scraped into a heap on the top of her head and she’s wearing very little makeup, just a little around the eyes and a smatter of lip gloss. She’s wearing blue jeans and a grey sweater, but at least she’s still wearing her giant heels. Not all is lost.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, reaching for Felicity’s hand.

“A little woozy,” Felicity squeezes her eyes shut and then opens them quickly again, trying to rid her eyes of the remnants of sleep. “My chest kind of hurts.”

“That nice nurse said it might. He said he’d be back in-“ she checks the time on her phone “- thirty minutes to check on you.”

“John?”

“Yeah. You like him?”

“He’s great. He’s gonna be a dad.”

“That’s great news,” Donna smiles and Felicity is pretty sure it’s the best news her mom has heard all day, the news that a man she just met is going to be a father.

“I hope he does a better job than my dad did.” Felicity doesn’t intend to say that. She knows it’s an insensitive thing to say, that it will make her mom mad or sad or guilty. But Felicity is mad that her dad left. He didn’t even know that she was sick the first time. He probably wouldn’t know, or care, if she died.

“That won’t be hard,” Donna says quietly, and tightens her grip on Felicity’s hand. “You did ok though, baby. You didn’t need him, right?”

“Right.” That’s something Felicity is sure of. She and her father had understood each other, thinking in sync, a perfect team. As a kid she thought that was everything, that it was all that mattered. Now that she is an adult, she knows that that was never going to make him a good parent. And it was never enough to make him stay. “Was your flight ok?” Felicity changes the subject.

“Other than being delayed, yes. Thanks for booking it for me. Still finding ways to help me, even when you’re sick. You’re going to change the world someday, baby, trust me on that.” There are tears in her mom’s eyes and it kind of makes her heart hurt, underneath the residual chest pain. Her mom thinks she’s going to change the world, and that would be great, but all she wants at this point in time is to be allowed to grow old.

There is a knock on her door again, and she tells the person to come in, assuming that it’s John coming to check up on her early, or maybe Sara seeing how she is, but the door swings open and it’s neither of them. It’s Oliver Queen, hair unkempt, clothes rumpled, looking like he probably needs a shave. His whole body looks rough, and Felicity thinks he probably hasn’t slept, and yet when he sees her his face relaxes. Not completely, but just enough.

“Oliver.” Felicity is surprised to see him. But she can’t say she’s anything but happy that he’s there. She notices her mom’s sharp intake of breath, though, and hates herself for mumbling his name in her anaesthesia daze earlier.

“Felicity.” He says her name carefully, the way she likes him to say it best. “Sorry, you have company,” he holds up a hand in apology, breaking their eye contact, and making to step back out of the room.

“Well don’t leave on my account!” Donna says when Felicity doesn’t try and stop him from going.

“Are you sure? If Felicity’s too tired or-” Oliver starts to protest, one foot in the door and one out.

“No, it’s fine. Oliver, come in,” Felicity interrupts him. She has a lot to say. “Mom, this is Oliver Queen. Oliver, this is my mom.” She’s kind of reluctant to introduce them for reasons that she doesn’t fully understand, but she wants Oliver in her life, and her mom _is_ in her life, so they had better get to know each other.

“Hi, Mrs Smoak. It’s lovely to meet you,” Oliver steps into the room and reaches out to shake her hand. Felicity watches as they shake, and her mom is unable to contain her smile.

“Please, call me Donna. And you’re Felicity’s…?” Felicity wants to disappear into her blankets. This is why she didn’t want them to meet. Her mom will gush and embarrass her and make everything awkward.

“Friend. I hope,” Oliver tells her. Felicity looks away.

“Oh,” her mom’s voice is dripping with intrigue. They drop each other’s hands. “So I was going to go and get something to eat. You want anything, sweetie?” She asks Felicity.

“No. Thanks, mom,” Felicity replies, fists clenched under the covers, thanking God that her mom can read a room and that Felicity doesn’t have to have this conversation in front of her.

“Ok, well I’ll be back in a little bit. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Donna winks at Felicity as she leaves the room.

“God,” Felicity drops her head into her hands. She can hear Oliver walk closer to her. “So that’s my mom,” she lifts her head up to look at him. He looks sad again. She wishes he wouldn’t. He looks up and he’s right at the edge of her bed, holding on to the metal at the side of it, gripping so tight that his knuckles have turned white. His eyes meet hers once more and there’s a fluttering in her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how to.” Oliver says quietly, holding her gaze. “And I’m so sorry.” He twitches his head, a single shake, like he can’t believe himself. “I should never have taken you to lunch. I should have made sure you didn’t get fired, and then left you alone. It would have been the right thing to do.” He’s looking out of the window now, hands still gripping the side of her bed.

“That’s not your choice. You can’t say that, Oliver. I wanted to get to know you, too. It’s my life, my choice.” Felicity stares defiantly at him even though he’s looking out of the window and not at her. “And I don’t regret it.” There’s a lump building in her throat and she swallows, hard, trying to push it away.

“I should never have made it a choice.”

“ _Stop it_.” Felicity grabs onto one of his wrists and pushes, pushes him away from her bedside. “You don’t get to come in here and throw yourself a pity party. Either you want to be my friend, or you don’t come back and see me again.” He’s looking at her now, hands hanging limply at his sides. “But I want to be your friend. And I’m sick, I need all the friends I can get. You do, too.” Oliver huffs a laugh at that, his eyes on her face.

“I’d love to be your friend, Felicity.”  
“Good.” She folds her arms across her chest, but folds them too hard, hurting herself. “Ow.”

“Are you ok?” He’s back in her personal space before she can blink.

“Yeah, I just got my port put in earlier.”

“Ouch,” Oliver winces.

“Why are you here, anyway? Did you just come to see me?” She asks. “I meant to return your calls, I just- today’s been crazy.”

“That’s ok. I didn’t really expect you to call back. I’m here because the appointment I skipped out on yesterday was rearranged for today,” he tells her. Felicity’s heart drops to her stomach.

“What happened? What did they say?” She almost doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“Do you really want to know?” He asks tentatively. She does. She needs to know. She’s just terrified about it, as well. She holds out her hand and he places his in hers, taking a seat in the chair her mom had occupied before. Felicity tangles their fingers together and she grips him tight enough that maybe he won’t be able to go anywhere. Maybe he can just stay here with her, forever.

“Tell me.” She says, and he leans in closer to her, takes a deep breath.

“I have less than six months.”

Felicity claps her free hand over her mouth, and the tears she had been shoving back flow into her eyes and flood over. Six months. She’s known him for less than one. He won’t live to see her turn twenty-five. He’ll be gone before the summer. He won’t get to share the earth with John and Lyla’s child.

“It’s not fair.” That’s all that Felicity can say. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it is not _fair_. The world is shitty, it’s screwed him over in the absolute worst way imaginable. Why does the human body have to be so weak? Why was it designed to succumb to disease and cancer and death before you’ve even lived? “It’s not fair, Oliver. It’s _not fair_. Why do you have to go?” Her voice is growing higher in pitch and the tears are spilling down towards her hair, and Oliver’s thumb is there, smoothing them away.

“Don’t cry over me,” he whispers. “Don’t you cry over me. It’s going to be ok.”

“How can you say that?” Felicity is choking on salty water now. “How can you possibly say that it’s going to be ok? It isn’t. It never will be again.” There are too many tears for Oliver to smooth into nothingness now, so instead he stands up and reaches over her and lets her cry into his shoulder, one hand on the top of her head, buried in her hair, one hand on her shoulder, holding on for dear life.

“Maybe it won’t be ok for me, but it will be for you. I promise, Felicity.” His words are a tangle in her hair, and she knows that they are not true with a fierce certainty.

 

Oliver had thought that Felicity would be mad at him for not telling her, for getting close to her, knowing he would have to hurt her. And she _was_ mad, she was a whole array of emotions. But not as angry as his little sister, pulling him into their house. Not as angry as she was when she screamed that he was selfish. Five minutes later when the tears have cleared, Felicity asks him, in a desperate voice, whether there is really nothing left they can do, nothing left that can save him. When he answers, it’s Thea’s words that crash back into her mind first _. You’re too selfish to try and save your own life_.

When he answers is when she gets _really_ angry. She knows that she probably doesn’t have the right to feel that angry over something which is entirely not her decision, but the anger comes anyway, a portion of the same fire fuelling Thea Queen’s rage.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry! Another cliffhanger! I think I might be a little bit evil. 
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudos, they really make my day!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, you guys have been wonderful with your comments/kudos/etc! Thank you so much!
> 
> I really did not have a lot of time to edit this chapter so sorry in advance for any mistakes, let me know if you spot any and I will edit them.

VIII.

“Isn’t there _anything_ they can do? Anything at all? Can’t they _try_ to save you?” Felicity’s eyes are swollen from the tears, the pain in her chest is growing, and her voice is small. She’s holding his hand again, intertwined fingers, as he stands over her, looking down at her like he’s making sure she doesn’t break.

When she asks that, though, the entirety of him pulls back. He stops looking at her, his eyes turn a little darker, his hand goes slack in her grip.

“Felicity… it’s complicated.” Felicity wriggles, struggling to sit up straighter.

“What does that mean?”

“There… there’s something that could be tried. But it wouldn’t work, it’s just- just something they offer you, because they have to.”

“What? What is it, Oliver?” Felicity tugs on his hand, trying to get him to look at her, because she doesn’t quite understand what he’s saying.

“There is a surgery. I had surgery before, when I was first diagnosed, to get rid of the tumor, but then it came back.” Oliver stops, and finally looks back at her. There are tears swimming in his eyes. He swallows hard before carrying on. “It’s deeper though, this time. There’s this clinical trial the doctors wanted to try me on… they dig out the tumor and then I go on medication which is supposed to prevent it from coming back. But there are risks, Felicity, there are so many risks.”

“Risks like what?” Felicity asks. To her, this sounds like a get out of jail free card, and Oliver is snubbing it.

“Like the surgery paralyses me, stops me from ever being able to walk, or talk, or feed myself again. It could turn me into a vegetable… I’d rather be dead than that. And the new drug, it’s a _clinical trial_ , hardly anyone has used it before. The side effects of it can be horrific. They could kill me all by themselves.” They aren’t holding hands any more. Oliver is rubbing his temples with his. Felicity is twisting hers in her lap. It seems that there is an obvious hole in Oliver’s refusal to get treatment.

“But you’re dead anyway. If you don’t get this treatment, you’re dead in _six months_ Oliver. Why wouldn’t you try?”

“I can’t, Felicity. You don’t understand.” Thea’s words come back to Felicity then, about Oliver being selfish. Selfish isn’t what comes to her mind, but anger begins to pool in her stomach when she thinks about how many people he is hurting all the same.

“I think I do, Oliver. I think you’re too worried about some stupid risks to have the surgery. You’re too scared to fight. To even try.”

“The chances of it working are _tiny_. I’d probably bleed out right there, on the operating table. I’d rather have six months than _no_ months.” His voice is raised a little, and he’s clearly frustrated at her. Felicity suspects he is frustrated at a lot of people. If he’s anything like her, it’s his own body, his own weaknesses which are frustrating him the most.

“Is this what your sister was so mad at your about?” Oliver takes a breath before answering her.

“The worst thing about all of this is what it’s done to Thea.” He’s quiet again now, pain evident in his voice.

“So don’t _do_ it to her.” Felicity understands Thea’s anger. Felicity is angry too. Not so much because Oliver is refusing to even try, but because she just feels so _helpless._ This is not a problem she can hack, or ignore, or work to defeat. This is a problem she just has to stand back and watch happen, helpless to stop it. She is just going to have to watch her friend decline, get sicker, until one day he isn’t around anymore. If she looks at it from Thea’s point of view, it hurts all the more, a thousand punches to the gut. He’s her brother, the one who is always supposed to be around. To Thea, he’s probably always been invincible. And pretty soon he will just be someone that she remembers. If she ever had kids, she’ll show them his photo and introduce them to a grave.

“Thea will be ok.”

“No, she won’t. _None_ of us will. Not if you do this to yourself, Oliver. Have you spoken to the doctors about it properly? Got a second opinion?” Felicity is growing more and more exasperated. It’s like Oliver has just given up.

“The doctors told me it was a last resort,” he shrugs, like that’s the be all and end all.

“So take it. Take the risk, Oliver. I’ve seen all of the pictures those trashy magazines used to print of you. Back when your friend… you used to have this amazing life. No risk too great. Everything you did was just this big _thing_. And now you’re just, just willing to give up? Just _take this risk._ ” He looks at her, and for a second it’s as if he’s going to say _yes_. Say yes and step into this terrifying new obstacle, that will make him or break him or somewhere in between. But then he averts his eyes and the look of longing is replaced by darkness again.

“No. I’ve made my decision, Felicity. My family has accepted that, and I wish that you would too, because I want you in these six months.” He steps away from her, backing up towards the door. “I’m going to go. I’ll come by tomorrow, you’re starting chemo, I need to make sure you’re ok.” It’s like he’s talking to himself now. “I’m sorry.” He says, and then he’s gone, leaving Felicity with a desperate ache inside of her, a sense of urgency. He’s so concerned about her wellbeing now, and for what? It won’t matter to him soon, won’t matter if Felicity is even dead or alive.

There’s a way out, and he’s not even going to take it. Felicity is angry because of how frustrated she feels, like she wants to scream or punch a wall. She can see why, from his point of view, he wouldn’t want to have the surgery, but to not even try? To not even want to try? It’s not like he’s an old man with his life behind him, he’s young, and healthy, and he has everything to live for. But perhaps he doesn’t see it that way. Perhaps he has stopped seeing life as beautiful since he decided death was the only thing left. It’s right then that the fire roaring behind Felicity’s eyes turns into something greater. She’s going to convince Oliver to get the surgery. Come hell or high water.

\---

After five minutes alone with her own thoughts, Felicity is starting to go crazy. Her mom still isn’t back, and her head has cleared, leaving her with in depth thoughts which quickly turn to worries. There’s still a little under thirty minutes left of visiting time, and Felicity is pretty sure that everyone will be busy with their families and friends, so she pushes back the covers and twists her feet down over the side of the bed. Her head spins a little again then, and even more when she stands up, but she pulls on a t-shirt and sweat pants slowly, and by the time she has run a hand through her tangled hair and pushed her feet into her shoes, she feels ok again.

Felicity isn’t sure where she’s planning to go, just out of her room, but she heads in the direction of the day room. Maybe there will be something decent on TV, some people to talk with. A few steps out of her room, however, she is outside another room with an open door. It takes her all of two seconds to figure out that it’s Sara’s room. It’s definitely snooping, standing just in front of the door and looking in, hearing exactly what the inhabitants are saying, and Felicity would just walk straight past, but the laughter draws her to a stop. She glances in and she can see four people – Sara sitting cross-legged on her bed in front of the pillows, her father, who is sitting on a chair beside her, and a woman with light brown hair standing on the other side of her. The fourth inhabitant is sitting opposite Sara so that all Felicity can see is a curtain of long, dark hair. They are playing cards and joking about something, smiling in the midst of the chaos of the hospital. Felicity walks away, hoping with everything she has that Sara is going to be ok, that she is a survivor. She needs to survive for the three people in that room, for her father who is so full of love for her, who felt guilty for being away for just a few days, and for the two women who clearly care so much, too.

Nearer to the reception area is another room with an open door, and this time it’s Barry’s. He’s sitting with his legs over the edge of the bed, sharing a pack of chips with a beautiful dark skinned woman. They are both sombre, faces turned to the floor, silent apart from the crunching. Felicity only stops there for a split second, watches as the woman lifts her hand and places it on Barry’s bad knee, probably wishing she could fix it.

Felicity finds herself in the day room, which is not as full as it was earlier in the day. The spot around the TV is now taken up by the group of old women, one of whom has a little girl in a pink dress balanced on her lap. They’re watching a fuzzy movie and laughing, belly-deep laughs which lift up the whole room. Her eyes scan the room and land on Roy, who is sitting in one of the couches on the right side of the room, glaring at a rickety-looking laptop. It’s him she aims for.

“Hey,” she flops down beside him.

“What’s up with you, blondie?” Roy asks, eyes not moving from the screen.

“Me? Have you _seen_ the look you’re giving that poor, innocent laptop?” Felicity hasn’t known Roy long, but she likes him already. If _she_ was a billionaire, she’d pay his hospital bills, too.

“It’s not the laptop I’m glaring at, it’s the wifi,” he explains, nodding at the ‘loading’ icon on Netflix.

“Oh. Is the hospital wifi really slow?” She was worried about this.

“Well, yeah. There’s this premium service you can pay for, but like I can afford that. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. It’s a hospital, we’re suffering enough.” Roy clicks furiously, his glare growing in intensity.

“Really? You’re right, I wouldn’t pay for it either,” she reaches for the laptop. “May I? I can fix it.” Roy shrugs and hands it over.

“You overhear the nurses talking about the password or something?” He guesses, sitting back in his seat.

“Nope. I don’t need any password.” And then she is at work, feeling at home amongst the numbers and strings of code. It takes under five minutes for her to locate the network and crack into it, Roy watching over her shoulder, his face growing steadily more and more impressed.

“Wow… that didn’t even look like it was difficult for you,” Roy gives a breathy laugh as she passes his laptop back, triumphant.

“That wasn’t. Walk in the park,” she replies.

“Ok, you can stay. For now.”

“So if I’d screwed it up you would have kicked me out of the hospital?”

“Oh yeah. You need skills to make it here.” Roy jokes, re-opening the browser and getting Netflix up.

“Damn, I’d have done a worse job if I knew I could get out of here a whole month early. Maybe if I report you to the nurses?”

“Nah. You do that and you’re here forever.” He deadpans, and Felicity punches him in the arm. “Ow. This is a hospital, you can’t just go around hitting people, Blondie.”

“Sorry, not sorry,” Felicity shrugs and Roy shakes his head at her. “What were you going to watch?”

“Not sure. Maybe Parks and Rec. Wanna join?” Roy asks her. Felicity nods. A comedy, set worlds away from her own life, is exactly what she needs right now.

“I’m in.” She replies, so that’s what they do.

They’re not quite one episode deep, both settled back in their seats with a earphone each, when John appears in front of them.

“Dig,” Roy nods at him absently, eyes stuck to the laptop screen.

“I see you made a friend, Felicity,” John comments, and she looks up to see him smiling.

“I guess I did.”

“Well, visiting time is over, so it’s time to eat.”

“It is? Where’s my mom?” Felicity pulls the earphone out and stands up, suddenly concerned. She’d been distracted, not realising how much time had passed.

“Your mom? Small, blonde, red lipstick, killer heels?” John asks.

“Yeah. Have you seen her?”

“Yeah I have. She’s fine.” He’s smirking a little.

“What?” Felicity furrows her brow, wondering what’s so funny.

“Your mom made a new friend, too. Come with me,” John nods to the door, and Felicity follows. After a beat, Roy shrugs and decides to follow too, laptop folded under his arm.

It’s the laughter she hears first. Real laughter, not the fake kind Felicity knows her mom does at work to try and get guys to buy more drinks. This is the real deal. Then she sees her mom, leaning up against the front desk, smiling a genuine smile, her whole face a beacon of happiness, sparkle in her eyes. Standing next to her, face a reflection of Donna’s, is Sara’s dad. Felicity stops and watches them, amused. A little way back from them, watching too, are Sara and the two women from before, all looking how Felicity imagines she does as well.

“…Anyway, long story short, the guy got a hefty fine. If you ask me, the humiliation was enough,” Felicity catches the tail end of Mr Lance’s story.

“I’d have to agree with you, there,” her mom says, through her laughter. Felicity nods at Sara, standing across the lobby, and Sara nods back with a smile and an exaggerated eye roll.

“See,” John says to Felicity, “she’s just fine.”

“Oh, Felicity!” Her mom sees her and begins to walk over, the smile firmly fixed in place. “I couldn’t find you! Mr Diggle here said to try the day room but I bumped in Mr Lance here and, well…” Donna glances back at him and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He’s watching her right back.

“It’s ok, mom, I was just watching Netflix with my friend Roy,” Felicity reaches out and squeezes her mom’s shoulder, letting her know that it’s all ok.

“Are you ok, are you feeling ok?” Donna asks, eyes scanning Felicity from head to toe.

“I’m ok,” she nods.

“Did your handsome friend have to leave?”

“Mom!” Felicity swats at her. “Yeah, he did.” Donna brushes Felicity’s forehead with the back of her hand like she used to when Felicity was a little kid and she was checking whether she had a fever or not. If only cancer could be treated with pink medicine which tasted like strawberries.

“Donna I was… would you like to go for a coffee? I know this great place down the street.” Mr Lance asks. Donna looks between him and Felicity.

“I shouldn’t. I should stay with Felicity,” She replies, but Felicity knows it will do her mom a world of good to have a friend here.

“Mom, you should go. I have to eat dinner now, anyway,” Felicity urges her.

“You – you don’t mind?”

“No, it’s fine. Visitors aren’t really supposed to be here during mealtimes, so you can go grab a coffee. It will be better than hospital coffee.” Hospital coffee is, of course, notoriously bad, and Felicity has had several bad experiences with it.

“I was hoping to show Felicity something, if that’s ok?” Sara is there suddenly, having crossed the lobby.

“I’d like that,” Felicity nods. “Go, mom, I’ll see you later.”

“Are you sure? Really sure?” Donna double checks.

“Go!” Felicity pushes her a little, and Donna finally agrees, and turns back to Mr Lance.

“I’ll take care of her,” he winks at Felicity.

“He will,” Sara affirms.

“We should go too,” the woman with light hair tells Sara, looking a little reluctant.

“Ok,” Sara sighs. “Felicity this is my sister, Laurel,” Sara indicates the woman with light hair, “and my girlfriend, Nyssa.”

They introduce themselves to one another, Felicity glad to finally put names to the faces. After that, Sara hugs Laurel goodbye, and then wraps her arms around Nyssa, and the two bury their faces in each other’s hair, holding on tight, trying to memorise the feel of one another’s bodies. Sara tells them she will see them tomorrow, and then they leave together, disappearing down the hallway and out of the door. Sara watches, the longing growing on her face, until they are gone. When they are, she rubs a hand across her face, and then looks at Felicity.

“So you wanna see some comics?” She asks, quietly, in a tone of voice which suggests they aren’t quite legal.

“Love to,” Felicity replies, eagerly.

“You, too, Abercrombie,” Sara calls back to Roy who has been loitering in the doorway of the day room.

They walk through the quieting hall, the hospital beginning to relax and settle down for the night. It won’t be quiet though, Felicity knows, not like her apartment where the only sounds are the distant rush of a car or the early hour screech of an alarm. Here it will be beeping and buzzing and voices and crying. A cacophony of sickness.

“Barry?” Felicity realises they’re outside his room, Sara poking her head in. “Stop moping. Iris is supposed to cheer you up, not do this.” She steps in and Roy and Felicity can see into the room. Felicity watches as Barry sinks further into his pillows. He is curled into a ball on top of the blankets, face in his hands. Felicity supposes that grief at losing a limb must happen, just like losing a loved one. Both leave you weaker and different and change your life forever. “I’m going to show Felicity the comics. I’ll give you a signed one if you get up,” Sara has reached him and pokes him in the back.

Felicity exchanges glances with Roy, who is looking as lost as she feels. Barry is losing a whole _limb_. What are you supposed to say about that? How do you possibly make that better? There is a muffled mumbling from the heap that is Barry.

“What?” Sara hasn’t heard him either.

“The Flash has two legs. You probably should change his secret identity in the comics to someone who isn’t me.”

“Bullshit. None of us are really whole anymore, we manage just fine. I’ll cut off the Flash’s leg if you really want, and he can save people by hopping there. Just stop… _this_.” Sara is obviously not a person who handles anyone with kid gloves. At first, Felicity wonders if it might make Barry mad, or sadder, but after a few seconds he groans and then pushes himself up.

“Fine. If my fans want me so much,” he grumbles, standing up.

“Atta boy,” Sara pats him on the back.

“You got this,” Roy tells him as they begin the short walk to Sara’s room. There’s a wheelchair by Barry’s bed but he ignores it, limping heavily but prevailing.

“He used to be a sprinter,” Roy tells Felicity quietly, a few steps ahead of Barry and Sara. “He was really good, lined up for the Olympics or something. Then this happened.”

Felicity doesn’t have the words to reply to that. To have all of your hopes and dreams ripped away like that is unimaginable. She had thought, for a brief period when she was sixteen, that cancer might stop her from graduating with such high grades, might prevent her from getting into MIT. That would have hurt and made her so _angry_ , but there would have been another school, another chance. You don’t just come back from losing your leg and start sprinting again. Barry’s Olympic dreams and well and truly shattered. There’s the Paralympics of course, and other competitions which can be entered with a prosthetic, but Felicity knows it takes time to learn how to use a prosthetic, how to run with it, how to be great. And it’s not like she knows whether Barry wants to do that. Maybe his dreams only involved two legs.

“There you are, Sara,” Kendra is walking towards them as they reach Sara’s room.

“I’m showing Felicity the comics if you wanna come?” Sara gestures into her room and Kendra nods.

The five of them crowd in to the small hospital room, Sara reaches into her wardrobe and pulls out a blue plastic box. Barry sits on the chair next to the bed, his face pale with the strain of walking the short distance on his bad leg. It has to be so difficult, and Felicity is sure he will be on pain medication as well, the doctors wouldn’t just accept him being in that much pain. Sara seems out of breath, more than she should be, like her lungs can’t draw in the oxygen quite enough. Felicity watches as Sara perches on the edge of her bed, trying to steady her breathing and sort through the box at the same time. Sara puts on a brave face, but Felicity is pretty sure that underneath the façade, she is not ok. Roy and Kendra sit either side of Sara, and Felicity drags a plastic chair from the corner of the room to sit beside Barry.

“Are you ok?” She asks him quietly.

“I guess so,” he sighs. Felicity smiles sympathetically at him and he returns the gesture.

“You need to ask them to up your pain meds,” Kendra comments, a pained look on her face.

“Yeah. I’m just…I want to be conscious for the last few days with my leg,” Barry taps his knee with a shrug.

“You can be,” Roy offers, “there will be something they can give you.”

“Maybe I’ll ask,” Barry says, but Felicity gets the impression he won’t.

“Ok, enough shop talk,” Sara interrupts. “This is a writer’s room now. I don’t know how to finish this comic.” She hands a pencilled script to Barry, and a collection of pencilled comic pages to Kendra. “Here,” she hands a pile of finished, coloured, printed comics to Felicity. She takes them, a little in awe.

“Wow,” they almost feel like real comic books you would find in a store, apart from the fact that the paper is a little rougher, and the pages are loosely stapled together rather than being neatly set together.

There is silence in the room, apart from the rustling of pages. Felicity takes in the comic as the others survey the pages they have been given, with Barry and Roy sharing. The series is called Black Canary, like Sara said, and the cover art of the top edition Felicity has is a silhouette standing on top of a bridge in the night, illuminated by the moon. It’s beautifully drawn. She flicks the page over and begins to read. The main characters, as far as she can tell, are the Black Canary, Green Arrow, Arsenal, Spartan, the Flash, and Hawkgirl. It’s about superheroes, justice, and what it means to be human. Sara is good at drawing with likeness whilst making the art her own, and Felicity is pretty sure that the Black Canary is Sara, Arsenal is Roy, Hawkgirl is Kendra, and as hinted earlier, the Flash is Barry. She is pretty sure that Spartan is John Diggle, and that Green Arrow is Oliver. She wonders how Oliver feels about being a superhero in one of Sara’s comic books. It raises all the more questions about how long Sara and Oliver have known each other. They must know each other quite well for her to write him in.

The comic isn’t very long, but within the pages the characters are brought to life, and they manage to stop a villain called Captain Cold from stealing the priceless jewels from a museum, and the heroes are helped by Detectives Lance and West.

“Is your dad really a detective?” Felicity asks as she nears the end.

“Mmhmm,” Sara affirms. “The other detective is Barry’s…?” Sara frowns at Barry.

“He’s my honorary dad, I guess,” Barry supplies. Felicity isn’t quite sure what that means, just that he is someone who means a lot to Barry.

Felicity reaches the end and then tears through the other two comics Sara gave her. They are all equally as thrilling, detailed, and beautifully drawn.

“Sara, these are amazing! You give them to the kids in hospital?” Felicity runs her finger along the edges of the pages, smiling at Sara.

“Thank you,” Sara can’t hide her return smile. “Yeah, we print them and hand them out. Gives them something to look forward to.”

“How did you start? How did you come up with the characters?” Felicity wants to know everything. Sara laughs at her enthusiasm.

“When I was a little kid my sister and me used to play superheroes sometimes. The black canary and the white canary, we’d alternate on who was who. And I started drawing comics years ago, when I was in grade school, and I’d use the canaries as characters, and invent villains and stuff. And when I got into the hospital, around two years ago now, life just seemed so… hopeless. So empty and painful,” Sara’s voice grows a little darker and it all resonates with Felicity. “Oliver was here, too, just as dark and broody as I was,” Sara chuckles a little at that, but Felicity feels her heart fall a little. Oliver has been sick for two years. At least. Two years takes a toll. Two years can crush a spirit. Two years can be enough to want to call it quits. She swallows and tries to tune Sara back in. “One day, after I’d been here a little under a month, I went for a walk. I wasn’t supposed to, but whatever, I did. I wound up in the play area just outside, and there were these little bald-headed kids playing superheroes out there. Just like Laurel and me used to. And I just had to draw something again, like I hadn’t done it a few years. So I did, I wrote it about the Black Canary, and I made her me because I needed a hero more than Laurel did at that point,” Sara laughs again. “It got kind of dull just writing about me, after a bit, though. So I added in Oliver, and I called him the Green Arrow, and it was better. I added Dig in after that, he deserves a superhero after all he’s been through. It took me a while to develop a consistent art and script style, but the kids loved them, and I knew I couldn’t stop. So Roy came next, then Barry, then Kendra. We have guest stars, too, and you see that one you have there,” Sara points at the comic on the top of the pile, and Felicity nods. “The villain there is my friend, Leonard. I needed a villain and he was coming to see me so I just wrote him in,” she shrugs, “inspiration is everywhere.”

“That’s awesome,” Felicity grins at Sara. She feels something like pride growing in her chest, pushing out the pain. She’s proud that a girl in a hospital bed, just like her, can accomplish something like this. “Did you ever think about doing these for like, a job?”

“They’re not good enough for that,” Sara shakes her head, smiling a little shyly. A chorus of ‘they are’s echoes through the room. “It’s not like it’s an easy business to get into. It’s not like it’s a certainty I’ll ever get out of here.”  

“Don’t say that,” Kendra says gently, the mood in the room shifting. “Don’t write yourself off.”

“You won’t get better if you don’t want to. That’s what they keep saying to me, anyway,” Barry says next. Sara glances at him and frowns a little, then clears her throat.

“Doesn’t matter, anyway. Do you like them?” She asks Felicity.

“Of course I do! I think they’re amazing, Sara,” Felicity tells her, and Sara bites her lip to hide her happiness.

“I have some ideas on how you can give this an epic ending, anyway,” Roy nudges Sara, nodding at the scripts Barry is holding.

“Ok,” Sara folds her arms. “Fire away, J.K Rowling.”

The five of them spend a further twenty minutes discussing the plot of the new comic and how it can be built upon and improved. Sara tells Felicity that they always do this, often with Oliver present, sometimes with others, too. It gives Felicity a sense of belonging, of being part of something. There’s a feeling of reassurance, too, that with this many people having her back, she can’t fail.

The discussion is only broken up when John comes in, wondering why none of them has touched their food yet, but then he is roped into the comic talk for five minutes, too. Eventually, they make it back to their own rooms. Felicity finds a tray of food, now cold, waiting for her. It’s a pasta dish with bread, and a banana with a yogurt for dessert. It’s not too bad, average as hospital food goes, and it fills her up. She hadn’t realised how hungry she had been after not having eaten since the morning, but the tiredness, emotions, and comics had distracted her.

When she’s done, her mom comes back, all smiles, and recounts her coffee date with Sara’s dad, and then Caitlin shows up with a bag of cookies, and the three of them watch a movie on Felicity’s laptop and share the cookies. It’s comforting to be with two people so familiar, in such an alien environment. Felicity falls asleep before nine, and when she wakes up it’s the middle of the night and everyone is gone. That makes her panic for a second, but then she reins in her thoughts, and rationalises the situation, and it’s ok again, doesn’t feel so strange.

The morning comes too soon, with a splash of light bursting through the blinds. Felicity’s first full day in the hospital stretches out, daunting, before her. She is bought breakfast at a time she deems too early to eat, but she forces down the soggy cereal and glass of orange juice because it’s the first day of chemo and the strength will be necessary. Chemo day one. The day she’s been dreading. After the first day, the end will loom nearer, something to aim for, but the first day is hard. Pretty soon, poison will be pumping into her veins, and she will feel like a really sick person. Like a person who has cancer rather than like a person who has, maybe, a severe vitamin deficiency. She wants to push it back, push the day away, pretend it isn’t coming. In the thick of chemo she knows she won’t feel like doing anything at all, least of all showering, so she uses her last precious hour to shower, being careful with her port, brush out her hair, pull on an oversized T-shirt and yoga pants, and then stares out of the window at all of the people heading to work and school, like today is just another ordinary day.

All too quickly, John is knocking on the door with Doctor Wells in tow, and they are hooking her up to the chemicals. They’re stronger this time, a combination of different chemicals designed to destroy everything in her, good or bad. Ruthless. There’s an anti-nausea and a pain medication in addition to the chemotherapy, and all of it combined will most likely have her knocked out well before dinner time. She’d rather be asleep than puking up her guts and shaking with cold sweats, though, so sleep is the outcome she is hoping for.

“I’ll be back soon to check on you,” John tells her, giving her a warm smile.

“It’s going to be tough, but you’ll get through it,” Doctor Wells offers, sounding to Felicity like a greetings card.

“Thanks,” she says with a deep breath. She got through it before, she keeps telling herself she can do it again.

“Press the call button if you need anything, ok?” John nods at the button sitting on the pillow behind Felicity.

“I will,” she agrees. Then she is left alone with the medication.

They’re hooked up to an IV pole so that she can walk around the ward if she wants to, but she doesn’t feel like it this morning, doesn’t feel like seeing anyone much. Caitlin texts that she is thinking of her, and her mom promised to come by at lunch time. Then there’s Oliver. He had said he would come and check on her today, too, and she isn’t sure how she feels about that. Hospitals give a person lots of time to think, which sometimes Felicity sees as a blessing and other times a curse. She’s been thinking about Oliver, about how he’s refusing the surgery, since they spoke the day before. She thought about it over the comics with the others, over the movie with her mom and Caitlin, getting ready this morning. It still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to her, but she can see it a little better from his point of view now. She knows he’s been here for at least two years now. That’s a long time to be sick. Felicity is having eight days of chemo, as a basis, and the thought of it is terrifying. It’s gruelling, and heart breaking, and the hardest thing she has ever done. There’s a possibility that eight days will not be enough, that she will have to come back again and have another eight days and another eight days. She tries to imagine that for two years. Non-stop worry, and sickness, and the agony of not knowing, of uncertainty. It sounds like too much to cope with. After two years of uncertainty, a high-risk surgery in which you are likely to die, sounds like a chink of false hope which is more worry than it is worth.

A knock at the door makes her jump, and her phone says she’s thirty minutes into treatment.

“Come in,” she calls to the door. It’s Oliver, looking a little worried, a little relieved, and a lot exhausted. “Hey,” she can’t help but feel relief flood her own body at the sight of him. Every moment that he is not within sight, he could be seriously ill. He could flicker from existence. Standing in front of her now, as he walks towards her, he is solid, real. She can pretend he isn’t going anywhere.

“Hi,” his voice is soft and calm and perfect. “How are you feeling?” He stills at her bedside.

“I’m not so bad. Not yet, anyway,” she huffs a laugh, not able to help her smile at him.

“Good,” he smiles back, their eyes locking. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“It’s ok,” Felicity replies without missing a beat. Tension leaves her body. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. I didn’t have that right,” she bites her lip, and he takes her hand like there’s a magnetic pull.

“You did. You had every right to be mad. I’m sorry, again, for getting involved in your life.” Felicity opens her mouth to protest. “But I realise that I am. So I’m going to stick around for as long as I can. I want to spend these last six, or however many, months with you. If you’ll have me.” His smile is a little watery now, but it’s warm, and safe. Comforting.

“I think you’re stuck with me, now. A friendship with me is for life,” Felicity jokes, making herself a little sad in the process. She wishes it had been a friendship for her _whole_ life.

“So it’s till death do us part?”

“Ye- No! No, we are not _married_!” Felicity pokes him in the arm with her free hand, but the gesture is meaningless thanks to the butterflies in her stomach which began when their hands joined. Oliver laughs and sits down in the seat next to her bed. His face grows more serious as the seconds tick past.

“It’s not going to be easy. Cancer isn’t pretty, and I’m sure you know that, but terminal illness is… it’s going to be hard, Felicity.”

“I know that. I’m… I won’t say prepared for it, but I’m going to face it with you. I’m not a cop out, Oliver.” She grips his hand and wonders what happened to make him want to push people away like this. “We’re in this together, ok?” She whispers the last part, and links together their fingers together. Oliver looks at her with echoes of hope in his eyes and reaches out to push a stray strand of hair away from her face. The chemo is starting to make her a little woozy.

“Ok,” he mouths at her.

“Your eyes are really beautiful,” Felicity voices her thoughts before realising that she probably shouldn’t have. “Frack,” she squeezes her eyes shut, wishing she had a stronger brain-mouth filter. When she opens them again he is smiling fondly at her. “Sara told me that when she got here two years ago, you were here, too. Oliver, how long have you been sick?” It’s a question which has been playing on her mind, one she needs an answer to. His eyes flicker down and he clears his throat.

“Coming up to three years.” Three years. Three years. Symptoms and hospital appointments and tests and medication and side effects and worry. For three years. Some people have it their whole lives. But three years is enough.

“Three years? I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, that you _are_ going through it. I’m not going to pretend I understand or that I really understand your reasoning for not having the surgery, but… if I was sick for three years… I can’t… I don’t blame you.” Felicity finishes, and seeks out the pools of his eyes again. She catches them, and they come to an understanding.

“It’s ok. It’s ok, Felicity,” he squeezes her hand and his face is a little pained. She’s pretty sure that this has been the hot topic of conversation for three years. Cancer has ruined his whole life, and now it’s claiming it as its own. It’s ruined endless possibilities and conversations. Not this one, too.

“Tell me something. Something nice,” Felicity suggests, hopeful. There is pain, and there is going to be more pain, so much more pain. An unbearable amount. The future’s going to hurt and it is unavoidable, and she’s going to lose him. No two ways about it. But today doesn’t have to hurt. She asks him to tell her something nice, something which will make the present less horrible than the future. Something so maybe she can pretend they are just two people having a conversation. Something nice. So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now that they have sorted out their differences, things are starting to move in the right direction.
> 
> Let me know any thoughts you have, I hope that I haven't made anybody cry this time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bring you a happy chapter! Well, reasonably chapter anyway ;). Thanks to everyone who left kudos and commented on the last chapter!

IX.

“What was your favourite movie as a kid?” Felicity asks Oliver late into the evening of her first day of chemotherapy. 

He didn’t stay long earlier, having to go into work for a few hours in the afternoon for a meeting. She asked him why he bothers going into work, now that there’s an expiry date looming above him. Normality was his reply. Something to keep him grounded. Some reason to get out of bed in the morning. He explains that he doesn’t go every day, he gets too tired, and even if he didn’t go at all ever again his father wouldn’t say anything about it. “He can’t even look at me. He doesn’t know what to say,” Oliver explains. Felicity feels her heart break a little more. He comes back right after work, showing up in his shirt and tie with ice cream and rubbing her back to try and shift the bone-deep ache in her body. 

“What?” He furrows his brow, confused by her question. He’s sitting next to her and they’re watching a nature documentary because only three channels on her TV work.

“I want to get to know you,” she shrugs as much as she can from within her bundle of blankets. “For all I know you might murder me right here in my bed.” That makes him chuckle, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way she likes.

“It might come as a surprise to you but most people are murdered by someone they know,” Oliver tells her. “So the questions are a bad idea.” 

“Damn. Ok so, maybe I just want to know things about you.” He meets her eyes and smiles.

“Knew it.”

“So answer me.” He shakes his head, pretending to be appalled by her.

“My favourite movie? I don’t know. When Thea was little we used to watch the Toy Story movies and they always made her laugh. So I guess Toy Story. Can I say that? I wasn’t technically that young when they came out.”

“Hmm,” Felicity pretends to be deep in thought. “I’ll allow it.” 

“Thanks. What about you?” He asks, eyes flitting to the TV. There’s an orange fish diving between strands of seaweed.

“Maybe Lilo and Stitch,” she muses, and her eyes join his on the fish.

“I can see that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Felicity asks playfully. He just looks the other way. “Are you saying I’m like Stitch? Or Lilo?”

“Neither, neither,” he laughs. She frowns at him and there’s another strand of hair on her face which he promptly moves out of the way for her. 

The chemo ways down her limbs like weights are attached, her whole body aches, and there’s a film of tiredness marring everything, but the pain and anti-nausea medications help to some degree. Oliver, she thinks, helps the most. He’s a distraction, that’s for sure. He still makes butterflies dance in her stomach and her skin tingle when he touches her. If the cancer isn’t making her feel sixteen again, Oliver certainly is.

“Are you a dog person or a cat person?” Felicity asks after a few minutes of watching the fish attempt to catch a smaller fish to eat.

“A dog person. I always wanted a dog growing up, but my parents always said no.”

“You could get one now. You’re an adult.” Felicity suggests. Oliver starts to look a little uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but…” his eyes fall to the floor and one of his hands is gripping the opposite shoulder. Felicity feels instantly guilty as she fills in the blanks in the sentence by herself. _Yeah, but, who’s going to take care of it in six months?_ Felicity clears her throat and tries to think of a new question to ask.

“Fish-“ she’s looking at the fish on the screen and they’re the only things she can think about besides Oliver dying. “You like them?”

“You’re asking me if I like fish?”

“Uh… yeah. Some people do, some people don’t. Some people just like to eat them and others like them so much that they study them, or swim with them. That’s why snorkels exist, and scuba gear. Unless you’re a fan of the Great Barrier Reef then I guess there’s another use for snorkels right there.” She’s babbling a little, trying to block the awkwardness and the inevitable death discussions with her voice. Filling up the silence with things.

Her mom’s friend had died when Felicity was in middle school, and they had been close. She used to watch Felicity a lot after school when her mom had to work, and had been more like an aunt than anything. She was in the hospital for a few weeks before she died, and on the day that she finally left the world, Felicity came home from school and one look at her mom’s face told her everything she needed to know. But hearing it, hearing it was scary and official and definite. Hearing it meant accepting it and funerals and helping to clear out her apartment and a big hole which a person once filled. Felicity had babbled for a solid fifteen minutes before her mom had the heart to stop her and tell her. Nothing much has changed since.

He’s looking at her with a sad expression again and she kind of hates it.

“Fish!” She urges him, wishing he would just saying something.

“I never really thought about it.” He replies, his voice a little flat. 

“Oh.” That isn’t the answer she had hoped for. It’s a little awkward now. Tension developing in the room.

“Felicity… I’m dying. You can talk about it. I don’t love talking about it, but I guess maybe I should. No use in pretending it isn’t happening.” Felicity knows he’s right. Talking about it would probably help – a problem shared is a problem halved and all. But maybe, just like when her mom’s friend died, Felicity wants fifteen minutes of denial.

“I know… it just…” She doesn’t have the words.

“It’s ok,” he smiles a small smile, full of warmth and apologies and emotions and words that neither of them know how to say. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Oliver.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

\---

He leaves shortly before ten when she can barely keep her eyes open. Visiting hours don’t seem to apply to him, she wonders if that’s because he’s spent so much time here or because technically he’s still a patient. She musters the energy to sit up a little straighter and watch the news, just to see what’s going on in the world whilst her world stands still. It’s half way through a piece about a heist at a museum in Central City when there’s a knock at her door and a pretty young woman steps into her room. Felicity takes in the dark hair and pretty clothes. It’s Thea.

“Oh, sorry. I was looking for my brother? Dig said he might be-“ Thea stops, frowning at Felicity. “You’re the girl from the other day. You were with Ollie when he missed his appointment.” 

“Uh,” Felicity suddenly feels extremely vulnerable. “I’m Felicity Smoak,” she panics and introduces herself.

“Thea Queen.” Like Felicity wouldn’t know who she was. “I’m sorry for being so mad. I wasn’t mad at you,” Thea says quickly before Felicity can say anything else. Thea steps closer, stopping at the foot of the bed. “It’s just… has he told you? Do you know?” Thea asks, her face softening. Felicity breathes a sigh of relief.

“Um, yeah. He told me. But he didn’t tell me before, I didn’t know he was sick on that day, or I wouldn’t have taken him out. I swear I didn’t know,” she insists.

“It’s ok,” Thea shakes her head. “He told us you didn’t know.”

“I’m…” she isn’t sure what to say now. “I’m so sorry he’s sick.” 

Thea gives a thin smile. “It’s ok. You’re sick too.”

“I’m not dying though. I don’t think I am, anyway,” Felicity winces a little.

“Cancer _sucks_.” Thea almost growls. “My brother has it, my boyfriend has it, Sara has it…” Thea looks up like she’s trying not to cry.

“You know Sara?” Felicity knows that’s not the thing to focus on from Thea’s words, but she does anyway.

“I just got to know her because Ollie’s been in here so long,” Thea shrugs.

“Oh.”

“I was hoping she’d be able to convince him to get the stupid surgery,” Thea sighs. “It’s ok. It’s what he wants.” Felicity doesn’t believe for one second that Thea is ok with it.

“I tried to convince him. I don’t think anyone can,” Felicity says quietly.

“I know no one can. We’ve all tried,” Thea sniffs, her eyes a little watery. “But you… he likes you.”

“He does?” That’s not something Felicity was expecting to hear.

“Yeah. When he came back home this morning he couldn’t stop smiling. Hasn’t been like that for years,” Thea tells her.

“Really?” Felicity pushes herself up a little on her pillows.

“Yeah. And I was visiting Roy this evening and he wanted to come. Couldn’t sit still on the drive over.” The butterflies are back. Felicity had thought that they only swooped in when Oliver was actually around. 

“You – you think he likes me?”

“I know he does,” Thea smiles. “I was hoping… I was hoping him liking you might change his mind. Maybe if he has something to live for, he’ll see the risk as worth it.” Thea grips the metal at the end of the bed. Felicity wishes that were the case.

“I just think his mind is made up.” Thea’s face falls further. “But I don’t know,” Felicity quickly adds. “He’s your brother. You know him.”

“I thought I knew him,” Thea mutters.

“You do. And he loves you, Thea. He talks about you a lot.”

“He does?” Thea seems as surprised as Felicity had when she told her Oliver liked her.

“Yeah,” Felicity confirms. The two women exchange weak smiles in solidarity. Felicity doesn’t know what Thea is feeling, she can’t know. It’s not her brother who is dying, not someone she has known her entire life. It’s someone new, someone who Felicity thinks she could have something special with, but isn’t going to get the chance. She’s not losing someone she has great memories with, she’s losing someone she will never have the chance to make them with. It’s completely different, but it’s the same person. The same Oliver. This could be the start of a beautiful beginning, but it isn’t. They will spend their time together in the hospital. Thea has had a lifetime with him. But they’re still losing the same smile, the same bright blue eyes, the same kind heart. And neither of them will be alone in this.

“I should go and find him. He gets tired a lot,” Thea says, taking her hands away from the metal. 

“Yeah,” Felicity nods in understanding. “Is he… how sick is he? Is he coping?” She’s been wondering how much he’s suffering, how much of a front he puts on around her.

“He’s doing ok, I guess,” Thea replies. “He’s on a lot of medication. Sometimes he has migraines, or he gets confused. The seizures are the worst.” Thea swallows hard, trying not to let her emotions show too much. “He had a bad one a few weeks ago, had to be admitted.” She tucks her hair behind her ear.

“That’s got to be so difficult,” Felicity says, her chest hurting with the new knowledge. She also wonders if that was why he was in the hospital when she saw him on the day of her marrow aspiration.

“Yeah,” Thea whispers. There is silence for a few seconds, and then Thea makes to open the door. “I should go find him. I’ll see you soon, Felicity. I’m here a lot to visit Roy.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is,” a little more warmth creeps into Thea’s eyes.

“That’s great,” that makes Felicity happier. Roy and Thea both seem like good people.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, again, for being so... y’know, last time we met.”

“It’s fine,” Felicity brushes her off.

“I’ll see you,” Thea opens the door and is gone.

Felicity switches the TV to a channel with a stand-up comedian on and tries not to think about how sick Oliver is. She doesn’t have to think about it for very long because she falls asleep.

\---

The next few days of chemo and not so different from the first one. She’s hooked up to the chemotherapy early in the morning, and drifts in and out of sleep for a while. On the second day Oliver doesn’t have work so he spends most of the day with her. They play cards with Sara and Roy, watch movies, and when she feels so awful that she just wants to sleep, he sits quietly next to her, the sound of his breathing lulling her to sleep. On the third day he works, and she wakes up feeling like death. Her mom rubs her back that day, and when Felicity tries to tug a brush through her hair, far too much comes out in the spines and she is so tired that she breaks down in tears. She’s glad that Oliver isn’t there to see that. Felicity introduces Caitlin to Oliver and to Sara, Roy, Barry, and Kendra, and when Felicity has the energy they sit in the day room and read through Sara’s comics or play one of the hospital board games. Word spreads about Felicity hacking into the premium internet, and Sara shows up to Felicity’s room with her laptop and watches in amazement as she makes short work of gaining access to the network. Later on, Barry is there with his laptop, too.

Barry’s surgery is finally arranged for the third day, after a few instances of rescheduling and last minute cancellations. Sara produces a large get well card for him with a picture of the Flash on the front with only one leg. Underneath it reads ‘sorry about your leg’, and everyone on the ward signs it. Felicity leans against Barry’s door way with her IV pole and watches as Sara hands it over, as his face changes from sad to happy to sad again.

“You got this, Bar,” Sara tells him quietly, face full of determination.

“I hope so,” he replies in a strained voice, like it’s taking everything he has not to break down in tears.

He’s taken away to be prepared for surgery in the afternoon, the two people he loves most in the world – Iris and Joe West – at his side. They watch him disappear into the elevator and then Roy and Sara help Felicity back to her room because she feels like her legs might disappear from under her. Kendra leaves the hospital on that day, too, because her treatment takes place every other week, so she gets to spend time in between at home. She says goodbye and Felicity watches her go with longing clawing at her insides. Kendra gets to be a sick person in her own bed, with her own things, her own TV, all of her clothes. Felicity tries to remind herself that her treatment will probably be over before Kendra’s is, and that’s something to be grateful for.

Sara, Felicity learns, has a near constant stream of visitors. Her father and her girlfriend come by every single day, without fail. Her sister is there most days but Sara explains that she’s super busy with work, so it’s not always possible. There’s her friends Leonard and Mick and Rip too, who have shown up just once each for the first three days of Felicity’s chemo, and Felicity has walked past several heated games of cards involving them. Oliver drops in on her when he visits, and so does Thea, and there’s a girl in a leather jacket who Felicity isn’t sure she would like to meet down a dark alley who visits Sara and Roy too. Sara is something special, and there are so many people who love her. And yet, Felicity notices, they all look at her like they’re trying to absorb her all at once. Trying to memorise everything about her and commit it to memory for the rest of their lives. It makes Felicity a little sad and full of questions. Worst of all it adds to her theory that Sara is sicker than she likes to admit.

Finally day four of chemo arrives, and it’s the last day before a two day respite. Felicity goes back to sleep after she is hooked up with the drugs, and wakes up much later to throw up the juice she managed in lieu of breakfast. Her mouth is sore, and there’s a rash on her neck and arms, and when she sits up her pillow is painted blonde. That’s the worst. That’s what’s going to tell people that she is a sick person, and make them stare at her and tell her they are just so sorry. She stares at it for a few minutes, anger growing inside of her, but she coped when she was sixteen and she’s stronger now. So she takes a deep breath and tries her very hardest to accept the inevitable. Her mom arrives an hour later with Caitlin in tow, and Felicity knows what she has to do.

“Mom?” She wants to get it over with.

“Yeah, sweetie?” Donna looks up from her magazine.

“I want to cut my hair.” She says definitively.

“Like all of it?” Caitlin interjects.

“You want us to shave it?” Donna asks.

“No! Not yet. Another day,” Felicity explains, “It’s just started to fall out. And if there’s less weight on it, it will fall out slower. I know, I know, it’s going to happen, I should deal with it. But I want a few more days.” This is what the nurse suggested the last time she was sick and it bought her some more time with hair, looking less sick. 

“Oh,” her mom looks a little relieved at that. “Sure, honey. Will they have some scissors I can use?”

“Ask John, I’m sure he’s got some,” Felicity tells her. Donna nods and leaves to get them.

“Are you going to trust her with your hair?” Caitlin asks, helping Felicity to sit on the edge of her bed.

“Are you volunteering in her place?” Felicity asks with a wink.

“Um, no. This isn’t the Hunger Games.” Caitlin replies with a smile. 

Felicity blinks a few times, trying to stop feeling so dizzy, and when she looks up Caitlin is frowning at her own hair.

“What?” Felicity asks suspiciously. 

“I’ve been meaning to get a haircut.”

“I wouldn’t trust my mom _that_ much!” Felicity objects.

“I’m short of money this month,” Caitlin shrugs.

“Oh my God,” Felicity buries her face in her hands. “Ok. But don’t shave your head for me or anything. You might look weird.”

“Hey,” Caitlin prods Felicity in the shoulder.

Donna returns a few minutes later with scissors and a plastic sheet, explaining that John had handed that over to catch the hair.

Felicity goes first, her mom wrapping a towel around her shoulders and then getting to work. This was how it used to be, back when she was a kid growing up in Vegas, when they didn’t have money to spare on haircuts. She’s not the best at giving haircuts but she’s good enough.

Felicity gets her hair cut to somewhere between her shoulders and chin, and accepts the fact that pretty soon she’s going to have to go wig shopping. The hospital has a small wig shop or there is the option of ordering online, like Sara did. She’s trying to focus on the new haircut today, though.

“You’re done,” her mom says after a while, and Caitlin appears with a small mirror.

“What do you think?” Caitlin asks, smiling widely at her.

It’s always strange, taking in a new picture of yourself. You spend a while memorising your complexion and the sloe of your nose and the way your hair frames your face. When something changes you find it a little strange when your new self is looking back at you, like it’s you but altered a few degrees to the right. This time is no different. Felicity’s new hair makes subtle differences, but she likes it. It’s not a transformation, just an edit.

“I love it,” she grins at her mom and Caitlin. “Thank you!”

“You do?” Donna beams back.

“Yeah! And I mean it’s only going to last a few days so if I didn’t it wouldn’t matter… but I do!” She adds as her mom’s face falls a little. “Caitlin’s turn now,” Felicity nudges her friend and makes her way back to sit on the edge of the bed.

The door opens as Caitlin is admiring her new hair in the small mirror. It’s Oliver. He steps in, looking a little confused at the sight of Caitlin and the mirror, Felicity laughing, and Donna kneeling on the ground and collecting up the plastic sheeting.

“Um…” he steps in a little further.

“Oh, Oliver!” Felicity smiles and instantly feels more at ease, as usual, because he is here so that means he is safe. And because she just likes being around him. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, smiling and stepping over Donna to get to Felicity.

“We cut our hair. Do you like it?” Felicity asks, running a hand through the shorter strands. Oliver stops a little way back to her and takes in the sight of her, a look of contentment crossing his features.

“I love it. You look beautiful, Felicity.” Her heart speeds up instantly. His voice is full of sincerity and some emotion that Felicity isn’t sure what to call.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, her eyes finding his. They look at each other, taking in sights of sickness and turning them into something beautiful.

“Hey, I got mine done too,” Caitlin points at her hair.

“You look great too,” Oliver laughs.

“Thanks,” she smiles.

“How have you been today?” Oliver asks, finally stepping closer to Felicity and squeezing her shoulder. “You have lotion for the rash?” He asks, pushing her hair back to take a closer look at the redness covering her neck.

“Yeah. It isn’t helping much though,” she frowns, and Oliver’s thumb brushes her skin. She jumps a little.

“Sorry,” he withdraws his hand, and she wishes he hadn’t.

“No, it’s fine. Just made me jump. I’ve been ok… I’m still alive,” she tells him, trying to play down her symptoms, because yes, she is alive, and there are plenty of people who would take the pain of chemo in a second because that’s not an option for them anymore. Because there aren’t any options left.

“I was wondering if you would like to come and decorate Barry’s room with me? I’ve convinced Sara and Roy to help already. Barry should get back from the surgery ward tomorrow morning,” Oliver says, his eyes hopeful. Something warm swoops over Felicity then, because Oliver Queen is so _good_. The media have it all wrong. Sure, she didn’t know him years ago, back when he used to have a bad boy image, when he used to get drunk every night and wake up every morning next to a different girl. Maybe all of those things were true, maybe not, but either way she is sure that his heart was still made of gold back then. Maybe it was just encased in something hard.

“I would love to,” she replies, moving to stand up. He reaches out to help her. “You guys want to come?” Felicity asks her mom and Caitlin.

“I have to meet Quentin. He’s taking me to dinner again,” Donna says, struggling to hide her happiness.

“That’s great, mom,” Felicity is happy for her. Having a kid in the hospital has to be so hard, especially when it’s for the second time.

“I’ll come, if you guys don’t mind,” Caitlin says, and Felicity nods. “Meet you there. Bathroom break,” Caitlin gestures in the vague direction of the bathroom.

“Ok,” Felicity says. Donna kisses Felicity on the cheek and pats Oliver on the arm, promising to be back later, and leaves the room with Caitlin.

Oliver puts his hand on Felicity’s arm and she holds onto her IV pole. “How are _you_?” She asks as they slowly leave the room, Felicity trying to stop her head from pounding and the room from spinning.

“I’m doing ok. They’ve got me on these new pain meds. Super strength. They don’t hand them out much because a long term side effect is organ failure. But that doesn’t matter for me anymore.” There’s a hint of humour in his voice, and Felicity gets it because she’s used humour to cope with things so many times before. 

“Maybe it will.” Felicity comments, trying to seem casual.

“What’s that mean?” He asks in a soft voice, like he’s scared of her answer.

“Nothing,” she brushes it off. She hears him sigh but doesn’t look up at him for fear of the room spinning even more and her losing her footing. It doesn’t matter anyway because she feels a sudden surge of sickness and has to stop to breathe through it. She is not going to puke on Oliver Queen.

“Are you ok?” He asks, his arm moving to her waist to steady her. An increase in the swooping feeling in her stomach is not what she needs right now. 

“Yep,” she whispers, eyes closed, taking deep breaths. His arm tightens a little around her and his other hand grips onto her shoulder. She holds onto her IV pole for dear life.

“Can you walk?” 

“Yeah. I’m ok,” she opens her eyes again, the feeling passing. They walk on, but his arm stays around her waist. “What do you have planned for Barry’s room, then?” She asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Just some balloons and stuff. And Sara drew some great Flash pictures so I got them printed on fancy paper to pin up in the room.”

“Did she finish her new comic yet?”

“I think she did.”

“Oh yeah,” Felicity remembers something she’d been meaning to ask. “How do you feel about being the Arrow?” She chances a look at him and it doesn’t make her dizziness any worse. Her head spins a little when he looks down at her with such affection, but she doesn’t think that has anything to do with chemo.

“She told me you liked that,” he comments, lips quirking up at the sides.

“I did.” She smiles. They’re outside Barry’s room now, but neither of them are going in. 

“I can’t complain. Pay is terrible, but at least I get to save some lives,” he nods. 

She laughs a little, but then Oliver moves so that they’re facing each other. His arm is still around her, and she looks up so that their eyes are meeting. He’s close. His face is so close that it’s like the day they went to the movie theatre all over again. She can see the small scars. Now, she knows why they are there, and it makes her mad because they exist for nothing. He still has cancer. Surgeries didn’t fix him. But they _did_ buy him time. 

That time means that he met her, that she wandered into his life. Those scars are the reason that they are standing in a hospital corridor with his face nearing hers. His lips look nice, a little chapped, a little bitten, but soft. His eyes are saying things that he can’t put into words, the things that she would like to say too. Words are hard, but eyes are transparent. They can’t keep secrets. Felicity’s heart is drumming in her chest, a tingling in her stomach as she pushes herself up on unstable tiptoes to do something crazy, something that she should not be doing, something that she might regret. But he is drawing closer too, his nose is almost touching hers, his breath tickling her skin. She isn’t breathing as her eyes begin to flutter shut.

“There you guys are!” Barry’s door is flung open, and they spring apart, Felicity almost falling backwards. Oliver grabs her arm to steady her. It’s Sara, looking at them with a strange smile on her face.

“Uh, yeah. We’re here.” Felicity notes that Oliver is terrible at acting casually. She’s just concentrating on trying to regain her breath, and trying not to be annoyed at Sara for interrupting… whatever that was.

Was it an almost kiss? Felicity isn’t sure. Would they have kissed, if Sara hadn’t opened the door at that precise moment? She had wanted to kiss him, and she’s pretty sure that he wanted to kiss her, too, but can’t be certain on that one. But they can’t do that. They can’t kiss because if they do, it’s going to hurt so much that Felicity isn’t going to be able to cope. She wants to scream or punch something, or both, when she thinks about his death now. If they were to close that gap _then_ what would happen? Most of the next six months is going to be spent in the hospital, either at her bedside or at his. This can never work. And yet bitterness nips at her insides as they walk into Barry’s room. Bitterness because she is pretty sure that they almost _kissed_. And she hasn’t known him for very long but she wants to kiss him very much. It’s not logical, it makes no sense. She is a sick person and so is he. Love is for the well. 

“You ok?” Sara asks Felicity.

“What? Yeah, fine,” Felicity replies quickly.

“Ok,” Sara frowns at her. Oliver smiles at her from where he is receiving balloons from Barry. “Look at this,” Sara thrusts something papery into Felicity’s hands. She looks down at it. 

It’s Sara’s new comic. And it’s open near the end, to a page filled up with a girl in a pretty dress, with blonde hair and glasses. It’s unmistakeably Felicity. She gasps.

“Sara! What?” Felicity claps her hand over her mouth, taking in the beautiful illustration. At the top are the words ‘ _Introducing: Overwatch_.’

“I couldn’t not add you, Felicity. Your superpower is technology. You hack stuff for the team,” she shrugs shyly, looking at her feet.

“Sara, that’s amazing! I can’t… thank you _so_ much!” Felicity pulls Sara in for a hug, their arms wrapping around each other.

“It’s no problem. You’re one of us. We’re taking them to the kids tomorrow and you’re going to be a _superhero_ to them.” 

That night, as she lays in bed trying to ignore the bone ache, her mind is divided between the almost kiss and the fact that she is officially a superhero now. Eventually she falls asleep and the two combine to make one of the strangest dreams she has ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! Please please comment and leave kudos if you liked it, they really make my day and motivate me! Let me know your thoughts :).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I've been swamped with exams and project hand ins and just real life getting in the way. I promise that updates will be coming more regularly now because I'm almost done with university. I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway!

X.

Felicity stops caring in the last few days of her chemo. She stops caring about her hair, stops caring about work, almost stops caring about whether she lives or dies. There is just pain and sickness and trying to sleep through it until it’s over. She is cold all of the time and she can’t chew or swallow anything solid, surviving mostly on ice pops and nutrients administered by IV. There are a few hours every day when she feels OK, when she pushes the pillows up a little higher and sits up enough to watch the TV or talk with a visitor. Oliver brings her a green beanie hat which used to be his, explaining that his Russian housekeeper knitted it for him and that he clearly would not be needing it anymore, so it may as well go to some use. That makes her want to cry and her emotions are all over the place, but she doesn’t cry, just pulls on the hat and falls back to sleep. Oliver is there every day, for most of the day, and at some point she realises she can’t imagine what her days would be like if he weren’t in them. 

After the chemo, she has to wait a few days before they find out if it worked, so she spends them trying to feel better. A day after Felicity’s treatment ends, they stop Sara’s too- the course comes to an end, they need to see if it has worked. For the first day it’s fine, and Oliver helps Felicity to the day room and they play monopoly with Sara and Roy and Kendra. Barry still doesn’t want to come out of his room. They have to stop monopoly after two hours and after both Sara and Roy try to flip the board in frustration because they’re getting tired.

“We’re basically old people,” Kendra frowns. She’s back in the hospital for a few days.

“We’re not dead yet,” Sara points out, and maybe it’s a distasteful joke to make amongst the terminally ill, but it makes them laugh anyway. Life hasn’t kicked them down yet.

“Not yet,” Roy tosses one of his small hotels at Sara and she catches it with one hand. 

“Killed you in monopoly though, Harper,” Sara throws it back and catches him in the shoulder, smirking at him.

“How are you feeling?” Oliver asks Sara, his hand resting on the small of Felicity’s back.

“Just great.” Sara replies hastily. Her voice is hoarse, though, her skin paler than it was before. “What about you two?” She asks Oliver and Felicity.

“I’m good. They have me on some strong meds,” Oliver replies. Felicity looks up at him, feeling something which might be pride. He’s been doing well. She hasn’t, but he has been strong enough for the both of them. They still don’t know precisely how long he has left, but he has colour in his cheeks and he eats enough food and she tries to make sure he gets enough sleep. 

“I’m ok,” Felicity gives a small smile. She’s been pretty quiet throughout the game. Sudden movements make her want to throw up and her tongue feels too raw.

“You got this,” Sara squeezes Felicity’s shoulder and it conveys a courage and a solidarity. 

“When do you find out if the treatment worked?” Felicity asks. None of Sara’s other treatments worked. But maybe this one will.

“Tomorrow. You?” 

“Day after.” Felicity is hopeful that hers has. After that it’s just trying to stop the cancer from coming back. They haven’t told her if they have found a marrow donor or not yet.

“Good luck,” Sara squeezes Felicity’s shoulder again and then lets go.

“You too.” They share a hopeful look, and then Sara walks past them and exits the room. She throws a smile over her shoulder on her way out. Nobody knows it yet, but it is the last time they will see her smile a proper smile for weeks.

\--

Felicity can’t sleep. She couldn’t stop sleeping for a long time, but on this particular night she can’t find a comfortable position, and her teeth ache and when she swallows she may as well be swallowing sandpaper. It’s quiet for most of the night. Hospital quiet, not middle-of-the-countryside quiet. She checks the time on her phone, the bright light half-blinding her, and it is three-thirty a.m., when there is noise outside. Felicity freezes, listening intently. Someone running past her door, followed by two more sets of feet close by, and then hurried voices.

“…need to get Doctor Michaels in here _immediately_ …” the voices fade away with the footsteps but Felicity has already heard them. Something’s wrong. She sits up and her heart misses a beat as she thinks about her friends. 

It’s Barry who her mind goes to first. He did just have major surgery after all, and she hasn’t seen him for a few days, either because she has been too sick or he hasn’t left his room. What if he got really sick over the past few days, maybe contracted an infection? Felicity bites her lip and slowly swings her feet around and stands up, locating a sweater on the chair beside her bed. It’s grey, and when she pulls it on it almost reaches her knees. So not hers then. Oliver’s. She can tell by the smell. It worries her for a second that he has become such a fixture in her life that she can instantly recognise his smell, but tells herself there will be time to dwell on that later. For now, she needs to know what’s going on. 

She still isn’t as steady on her feet as she would like to be, so she half limps over to the door of her room and listens. There are voices but they aren’t directly outside her room. If they were and she opened it, she’s sure they would tell her to go back to bed, that there’s nothing to see, that sleep is important for recovery. Of course sleep is important, but tonight she just can’t catch any. It’s going to be doubly impossible to sleep knowing that something has happened, that one of her friends might be seriously sick. _More_ seriously sick, Felicity reminds herself. This is a cancer ward, everyone on it is already seriously sick.

Felicity cracks open her door and checks properly that the corridor is empty. It is, but the voices are louder, and once she has stepped out of her room she can tell where they are coming from. Sara’s room. Her door is wrenched open with light flooding from inside and joining the dimmed light of the corridor. Felicity’s blood runs cold, fear flooding her body as she steps towards the door. There are a whole load of voices coming from inside, voices and beeping machines and a sense of panic. Felicity freezes right outside and listens, too afraid to look in.

“She needs to go, now.”

“I need you to make the call…”

“…not breathing…”

“Let’s go, come _on_.”

And then there are people coming out of Sara’s room, nurses and the on call doctor, faces cold and focused. Felicity takes a step back but nobody notices her, and they are wheeling on a bed and picking up the pace, half running towards the elevators and Felicity wants to scream. There are so many bodies that they mostly block Sara from view, but Felicity catches a snippet of her face. Skin pale, lips turning blue, sweat glistening on her face, eyes wide open and staring. But not seeing. _Do something_ Felicity wants to scream at them all now, but they have gone around the corner before she remembers to breathe. How did this happen? How could Sara, who was playing monopoly with them that very same day with laughter, decline so quickly? Felicity is rooted to the spot, the image of her friends face seared into her mind. Blue lips, eyes wide open. Like a dead person. Sara Lance is not dead. Felicity yells it inside her head over and over again. If she was dead, they wouldn’t be running her to another department, wouldn’t be calling Doctor Michaels. If she was dead they would be quietly draping a white sheet over her body. They weren’t doing that. She is not dead. Sara Lance is alive and she is going to live. But she might die. This might be a last ditch attempt to save her. _No_. 

She cannot die, Felicity tells herself, still rooted to the floor like the world will collapse if she moves an inch. Sara was smiling earlier, so she will not die. Sara is young and beautiful and she has fought this illness for years. She won’t give up now. She will live. 

There is a phone ringing in the reception area, and it makes Felicity jump. She moved, and the world didn’t end. Not yet, anyway. It’s cold, standing in the corridor, but time is standing still, here. If she goes back to her room then Sara might not wake up. 

She needs to tell Oliver. That’s the next thought that crosses her mind and she doesn’t have time to overanalyse it or wonder why. She just needs to hear his voice, needs to hear that he is ok. Not him, too. Suddenly she can’t get back to her room quick enough, needing to pick up her phone. She calls him with shaking hands, and her whole body doesn’t stop quaking until he picks up, his voice thick with sleep.

“Felicity?” He’s ok. He’s real and alive and ok. Oliver. Her Oliver. There is a sob building up in the back of her throat and she can’t push it away right now, doesn’t have the strength. Sara’s lips were _blue_. “Felicity?” The sleep is evaporating from his tone, something more serious creeping in. It’s worry. “Felicity is everything ok? Are you ok? Are you hurt?” Urgency now.

“It’s Sara.” Her voice breaks and she tries to push back the tears. She’s cried enough for a whole lifetime in these walls and it’s all because of cancer. Life-stealing, soul-sucking _cancer._ She has never hated it more.

“What? Sara?”

“She’s really sick.” Her voice is too small. Maybe if she was stronger she could find a way to beat this thing. But Sara is _so_ strong, and it is taking her. Swallowing her whole.

“What do you mean?” His voice is soft. Oliver is strong too, she thinks, but he’s being taken in just about the worst way.

“Her lips went blue, Oliver. They took her away and her lips were blue. Her eyes were open like a dead person.” She’s pretty sure that she isn’t making any sense. Nothing makes sense anymore, so why should this conversation? This world lets little children and parents and friends and great loves die of cancer and pulls away people’s whole worlds. It’s all mixed up and inside-out. Why should any of it make sense?

“When? When did it happen Felicity?” He’s properly awake now.

“Just now.”

“Are you ok?” She wonders why he’s worrying about her right now.

“I don’t know.” That’s the truth.

“I’m coming to the hospital, ok? I’m getting dressed right now, and then I need to hang up and call a cab.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” she insists, but she doesn’t even manage to convince herself. She wants him here, wants him to find out what’s happening. She lifts her arm up and inhales the scent on the grey sweater. He will be here soon.

“Of course I do.” Of course he does.

He hangs up the phone and Felicity walks to the window to look out at the world and remind herself that it is still there. It’s quiet, out in the dark, just the occasional car travelling past, people walking with their hoods up, sheltering from the night. People going about their lives. People who didn’t just watch their friend being rushed away with blue lips. She wonders what problems the people outside have. Maybe they’re big ones, like losing a loved one, or maybe they are small, like not having enough money to buy the shoes they want. Felicity knows it’s selfish and inaccurate, but at almost-four a.m. in the morning she envies every single one of the people she sees going past because their lives have to be better than hers. Their problems have to be smaller than the problems in here. Smaller than dying a slow death. Have to be smaller than losing the majority of a leg. Have to be smaller than being trapped in a hospital for years on end and then being rushed away in the dead of night because you cannot breathe.

The next set of footsteps outside her door are quick ones, but they stop right outside and then the door opens. Felicity is still staring out of the window, still wishing she was anywhere else but inside the hospital and that everyone else here was too. 

“Felicity?” It’s Oliver, his hair ruffled, sweater on backwards. She doesn’t mention the sweater thing, just reaches for him and he wraps his arms around her and she instantly feels safer, more grounded. Better about being in the world.

“Thank you,” she whispers into his shoulder.

“You don’t ever need to thank me.”

She tells him about Sara and he tells her that that’s happened before with her, at least twice. Once when he was an inpatient as well and they were trying her on a medication. That time it didn’t work, and her lungs filled up with fluid. But they got the fluid out and stopped her lungs from filling up again and tried a new medication and it _kept_ the fluid out. It stopped working, because lung cancer is tricky, but then there was another new medication after that one, Oliver tells her. She climbs back into bed and he kisses her on the forehead and tells her that he will be right back, and she believes him.

“It’s her lungs again,” he tells her ten minutes later when he steps back in the room.

“Is she ok?” Felicity just needs to know.

“I found Dig, and he couldn’t tell me much, but she’s stable right now.” He reaches for her hand and squeezes it tight.

“Thank God,” Felicity breathes out a deep breath and her chest instantly feels lighter. Depressurised. 

“He said he’ll let us know in the morning how she is.” They are an ‘us’ now, and little tingles spark in their joined hands. “Can you go back to sleep now?” He asks, and she is so tired that she doesn’t think she would be able to do anything but sleep.

“What about you?” She wonders.

“I’ll just take a nap right here.” Oliver leans back as if to illustrate his point.

“You’ll hurt your back.”

“I’ll be fine.” The sleepiness is creeping back into his voice.

“This is a big bed. Just get in here,” she says, almost too scared to ask. What if he thinks she’s overstepping a line? They still haven’t talked about the almost-kiss. She’s certain that he doesn’t want to be anything other than a friend and moral support. Still, friends can share a bed. It’s not like it would mean anything, just an offer of a place to sleep.

“I’ll hurt you,” Oliver frowns.

“No you won’t. I’m ok.” Oliver looks like he wants to climb in, but his expression is hesitant.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll feel guilty if I know you’re sleeping on that chair.” 

Oliver considers it for a while longer. “Ok,” he stands up, and she moves over.

Oliver pulls his shoes off and tugs his backwards sweater over his head. It’s only when he is carefully positioned next to her that he notices what she is wearing.

“Is that my sweater?”

“I think so. I just grabbed it off the chair earlier. Sorry, you can have it back.”

“No. It suits you,” he says quietly, and turns to face her.

He’s so close to her that she can feel his breath dancing on her face, see the details on his face like the day at the movies. His knees are touching hers under the blankets, their fingers barely an inch apart. She wants to kiss him. She wants to move the tiny distance to press her lips against his, feel his skin on hers. But the distance seems huge, when she considers doing that. Like he’s on the other side of the room. To kiss him, she would just have to move a few muscles and she’d be there, but she’s suddenly paralysed. Neither of them are closing their eyes, like a person who is trying to go to sleep does. They just fall into the pools of each-other’s eyes and try not to overthink things.

“Do you think she’ll be ok?” Felicity whispers.

“Definitely. She’s so strong,” Oliver replies, his words washing over her.

“Good.”

“You’re strong too, Felicity,” he tells her, and she doesn’t know whether to believe him.

“Not as strong as you.” Because how do you get up every morning knowing you’re going to be dead soon? Oliver gives a half laugh at that.

“You’re wrong there.” She wants to argue but he closes his eyes tight. “Goodnight, Felicity.”

“Night.”

It’s strange lying there with another person. The bed dips differently, she has less blanket, and she knows that if she moves a few inches to the left their bodies will be pressed together. She keeps reminding herself that they are _just friends_ , nothing else. He’ll be gone soon, and loving him properly would just end in her being ten times more hurt. The thing is, she is starting to think that she already does love him properly. That the only thing that will happen if she tells him and they spend his last few months together is that she will have made some beautiful memories and that she will be able to lose him without regret. There is something holding her back, though, the same old fear that has held her back from things her whole life. She asks herself what the worst that can happen is, she already has cancer, and there isn’t a clear answer. But still, telling him how she feels is too much, right now. She doesn’t think that she could handle the rejection.

\--

The first thing Felicity sees when she wakes up is black. Confusion hits her for a split second and then she moves back a little and sees that it is fabric. A t-shirt. A person. She freezes as the events of the night come back to her. Sara. Blue lips. Oliver. 

She didn’t close the blinds properly and now daylight is streaming in and illuminating the room like fire. There is something heavy around her waist. Arm. Felicity tries to breathe less. Neither one of them has moved much in their sleep, apart from to drift closer to one another. Her hand is knotted in his t-shirt and his arm is draped over her waist with his hand resting against her back. Their sock-clad feet are tangled together, too, like no part of their bodies wants to be too far from the other. 

Felicity closes her eyes again, and it’s so easy to imagine that she is anywhere else but here. They could be in her apartment on a Saturday morning, and they will wake up slowly and sleepily and still knotted together. She will wear his sweater and a pair of skinny jeans and they will go out for breakfast and have fresh coffee and everything bagels. Maybe later they can see a movie again. Maybe they’ll see it with Roy and Kendra and Barry and Sara. They’ll all be beautiful and everything will be ok. But the sound of an ambulance siren outside reminds her that they are in the hospital. This hospital is going to be woven into their whole story, because this is where they met and this is where they spend all of their time and, more than likely, this is where Oliver will die.

There is movement, and she quickly moves her hand, dropping the t-shirt material, and wishes that she could extract herself from the body tangle without waking Oliver up. Unfortunately, the positioning of his arm makes that pretty much impossible.

“Felicity?” His voice is groggy, like it was when she called him in desperation last night. She called him and he came. She wonders if he would always come when she calls. If he would follow her to the ends of the earth.

“Hi,” she pulls back and looks up at him from her position somewhere near his chest. He’s warm and comfortable. She doesn’t want to move.

“Hi.” His face lights up as he looks down at her, eyes half closed. She feels a little self-conscious because it’s early and her breath tastes disgusting and she has no freaking hair left. But he’s smiling at her like he’s never been happier, his face at peace, so she smiles right back at him, bathed in the golden glow of the morning, smiles at the stubble and the circles beneath his eyes and his ruffled hair. She doesn’t think there’s a way he could stop being beautiful. 

Her throat is dry, it often is these days, and she coughs sharply, her chest heaving a little. A few seconds later she wishes she hadn’t because Oliver seems to remember himself, remember that he’s in a hospital bed with a sick girl, and his eyes open properly.

“Oh,” he lifts up his arm and shuffles backwards. “I’m sorry, Felicity, I-“

“Don’t say sorry,” she tells him, heart sinking a little as he pushes himself into a sitting position. She copies him. “You were sleeping.”

“I know. I’m just… I should have gone home last night. I could have hurt you or something.” He rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“No. It’s my fault you’re here. I shouldn’t have called you, it’s not fair for you to just drop your life for me,” she frowns, realising that it’s the truth. Reasonably, she shouldn’t have called him. They are _just friends_. She should have called her mom. But her mom doesn’t know Sara, Oliver does. Oliver knew her first, but now they both know her. She’s a person that they share, and Felicity knows that Oliver is just as worried about Sara as she is, so yes, it makes sense that she called him. He understands.

“I’m glad you called me. It’s not like I have much of a life now anyway,” he says, smiling. Felicity half wants to cry at that, but she doesn’t, she just smiles right back at him. “What time is it?” He asks. Usually that’s one of the first things Felicity wants to know when she wakes up, but on this particular morning it just didn’t matter. She didn’t want it to pass. She reaches for her phone to check.

“Almost nine.” That means that the nurses have probably already been in to check on her. And probably already seen her and Oliver tangled together underneath the blankets. “Oh, God,” she buries her face in her hands.

“What? Are you in pain?” Oliver asks quickly, sounding worried again.

“No,” Felicity groans. “I just realised the nurses have probably been in already.”

“Oh,” Oliver laughs, and Felicity peeks through her fingers to see him looking at her with affection again. “Don’t worry about that. They’ve seen way worse.”

“How do _you_ know?” She asks, pulling her hands away from her face.

“ _I’ve_ seen some crazy stuff in here and I’ve just been a patient here for a few years. They work here all the time,” he explains.

“What kind of crazy stuff?” Felicity is intrigued.

“Hospitals are filled with people having the best and worst days of their lives. And on those days, people act unpredictably. So a lot of stuff,” Oliver tells her.

“I guess so,” it makes sense. 

“I should go and see if Dig’s still here,” Oliver hops off the bed and starts to pull his shoes on. She misses him being so close. “I’ll find out about Sara.”

“Ok. Thank you.” She’s feeling hopeful, because if Sara was gone, Felicity firmly believes that the world would have shifted, that something would be inherently different. The whole world would surely grieve for Sara Lance.

“See you in a minute,” he squeezes her shoulder lightly and then he is leaving, and the room feels colder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please leave kudos or a comment if you liked it!  
> Also come and say hi on tumblr if you feel like it - I'm jakelovesamy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not want to be written! Sometimes you just have those chapters that are all planned out but you just can't get out of your head, this was one of them. Hope you like it anyway, and thank you very much for the kudos and comments on the last chapter, you are all wonderful readers and I want to thank you for reading this fic!

XI.

Felicity drags herself out of bed and changes into sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. There were days when she wore the same pair of pyjamas and didn’t brush her teeth, but now that she feels a little better she’s going to try as hard as she can to be as normal as possible. As normal as a person can be in the hospital, anyway. She pulls on her green hat, brushes her teeth, and runs some Chapstick over her dry lips. She doesn’t look like a healthy person, but she smiles at herself in the mirror today instead of hurriedly looking away. Tomorrow, she will find out if she needs more chemo or not. Either way, she knows she’s come a long way already.

Oliver returns as she straightens her beanie in the mirror, and she watches his reflection draw closer to her, his face not screaming bad news. Felicity allows herself to relax a little.

“Sara’s still stable. She hasn’t regained consciousness, but her family is with her,” Oliver tells her with a worn smile.

Felicity knows that he must be tired of this. Tired of hospitals and of sickness infecting him and the people he cares about. Tired of loved ones being in the ICU and of life and death being precariously stacked together every day. But he’s still here. He still comes to see her every day, still comes to sit with her and hold her hand, still comes to admire Sara’s comics, still tries to get Barry to leave his room and Roy to crack a smile. Felicity feels a rush of affection for him and smiles at him in the mirror, their eyes meeting in the glass.

“Thank you,” she tells him quietly. He places a hand on her shoulder. “How long was Sara in the ICU for, before?” She wonders.

“Three days, last time. Then she came back here and she was still pretty sick for a while. It took her two weeks to get back to drawing. That’s when you know she’s going to be ok, when she’s drawing,” Oliver tells her.

“She needs to be ok. Her family needs her to be ok,” Felicity comments, thinking about the way Sara and her father had wrapped their arms around each other after not having seen one another for a few days. How much love had been in her father’s eyes. How he would surely do anything for his daughter, and how much it would destroy him if he lost her. She thinks about all of them playing cards in her hospital room, about her pretty sister and how she visits almost every day, about her girlfriend with her long dark hair and their tender kisses. Sara is so loved, maybe the most loved person in the whole damn hospital, with different visitors each day of the week, and she immortalises the love in her comics, keeping her people close with pencils and ink. Sara Lance has to stay.

“She will be,” Oliver says, and Felicity turns and lets her head fall onto his warm chest. He stills for a moment and then his arms move to loop around her back, keeping her safe.

“When do you have to go?” Felicity asks, dreading the reply.

“Soon,” he sighs. “There’s a meeting I promised my father I’d be at. But I’ll come straight back when it’s done,” he promises.

“Ok,” she speaks into his chest.

\--

He leaves soon after, and Felicity tries to busy herself to stop thinking so much. She doesn’t want to go to the day room and feel the gaping hole which is usually filled by her friends. Barry won’t leave his room, Sara is in the ICU, Kendra has had a tight regimen of treatments over the past few days, and the last time Felicity saw Roy, when she felt like death from the chemo, he looked even sicker than she felt. So she starts to do some digging into her friends’ bank accounts, planning on helping Oliver with his quest to pay their medical bills. She hasn’t forgotten about it, battling through the sickness, but now that she feels a little better, it’s somewhere near the top of her agenda. She just wants to do something to help. She is five minutes into her task when there’s a knock at the door.

Felicity assumes that it’s a doctor or a nurse or maybe, at a push, Roy or Kendra, maybe feeling not-so-terrible. She stands up from the chair, closing the lid of her laptop, and walks over to the door. When she opens it she comes face to face with someone who was at the bottom of the list of people she thought would be at the door. It’s Barry. He’s in his wheelchair, face white with what Felicity thinks might be pain, and a crestfallen expression.

“Barry?” Felicity blinks, wondering if he might be a mirage.

“Felicity. I heard about Sara,” he says, looking up at her. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, of course you can,” Felicity steps aside and allows Barry to wheel himself in. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Barry tells her in a voice which betrays him. “It’s just hard to, like, do _everything_ with one leg. Getting dressed and getting to the bathroom and even brushing my teeth is a challenge. They say it will get easier, just keep trying, whatever… it just sucks.” He tugs his black beanie hat further down and sighs, putting on his wheelchair brake opposite Felicity’s chair, which she settles herself in.

“That really sucks, Barry. I know that there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better. Just know that I’m here for you, if you need anything,” she reaches across to squeeze his hand, resting on his knee.

“Thank you. That means a lot,” he smiles weakly at Felicity. “So do you know what happened to Sara? Her sister was picking some stuff up from her room and she just told me that Sara’s in the ICU?”

“Yeah, uh, she’s stable, apparently. They rushed her there early this morning, I think because of fluid in her lungs. Last I heard she was still unconscious,” Felicity tells him, wishing it weren’t true.

“Wow. Do you know if she’s going to be ok?” Barry asks.

“I don’t know. Just that she’s stable. But Oliver told me this has happened before with her, so she should be ok.”  
“Yeah it has. She’s tough though,” Barry nods. “Cancer isn’t giving her an easy run of it, that’s for sure.”

“Does it give anyone an easy run?” Felicity asks, rhetorically.

“No,” Barry laughs a little. “I guess it doesn’t.”

“How are you? Apart from having no leg?”

“They told me yesterday that I’m NEC,” Barry tells Felicity, after a reluctant pause.

“No evidence of cancer? Barry, that’s amazing news!” Felicity beams at him, so pleased for her friend. “Aren’t you happy?” She asks, confused by his expression.

“Of course I am. I just… I feel awful about it.” He admits.

“What? Why?”

“You just had chemo, Kendra and Roy still have months of treatment ahead of them, Sara’s in the ICU, there’s a whole ward of sick kids in here… it’s not fair.” That wasn’t exactly the response Felicity had been expecting. And she has to disagree with him.

“But Barry, if you’re not sick, you can – you can _do_ something about it,” she points out.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“You can live your life. For the people who can’t. Or if that isn’t enough for you, you can raise money for cancer research or a hospice or even this very hospital. You get to _do something_.”

“Can’t do much living with one leg.”

“Of _course_ you can,” Felicity bats his good knee. “You’re NEC. That means you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Plenty of people have wonderful lives with just one leg. Or no legs. People are born without legs, or they get them blown off in war zones. Or they get cancer. You can get a prosthetic and learn to walk with it, no one will even know the difference. Or you can learn how to play wheelchair basketball. I don’t know. You can just do anything,” Felicity shrugs, watching Barry frowning. She knows the feeling, the way survivor’s guilt can take hold. She also knows how mad she is at herself for, despite having survived cancer before, taking life for granted. Not this time. If she survives this time, she promises herself, she’s going to love life. Stop saving money for that rainy day and buy the pretty shoes instead. Go on that slightly out of budget vacation. Kiss the guy. _Kiss the guy_.

“Wow, did you steal that from a movie?” Barry asks sarcastically, but he is smiling just the tiniest bit and she’s pretty sure that that’s sincere.

“No. I’m considering a career in motivational speaking.”

“Go for it. I’ll write you a letter of recommendation.” They exchange smiles, Felicity just glad that Barry is sitting in front of her making sarcastic comments and not alone in his bedroom.

“Seriously, though. You have nothing to feel guilty about, ok?”

Barry looks at the floor and takes a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

“When do you get to go home?” Felicity wonders.

“They said a week or so. My immune system isn’t great right now, and my leg needs a lot of care,” he shrugs. “Then it’s months of physio and learning how to live my life again.” The wall comes up again, and his eyes fall back to the ground.

“You trained so hard that you almost got to the Olympics, Barry. You can do anything.”

“Anything _except_ compete in the Olympics,” he huffs, and Felicity realises that she perhaps shouldn’t have bought it up. But avoiding your problems never did anyone any good.

“Anything. And you have family and friends to help you every step. I may not have known you for very long but I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me.” Felicity tells him, and he nods in acknowledgement. “So there’s a Harry Potter movie marathon on TV. Are you in?”

“You shouldn’t even need to ask,” he replies, his expression a little lighter. Felicity moves to sit on her bed, propped up against the pillows, and Barry pulls himself into the chair in her place.

\--

They watch the movies until Barry begins to fall asleep and Felicity grows restless. She can hear a light smattering of rain bouncing off of the windows and wishes, more than anything in that moment, that she could be out there to feel it against her skin. Sometimes the hospital air feels suffocating, thick and stale.

At lunch time Barry goes back to his room, promising Felicity that she will see him soon, that he will leave his room more and interact with people and act like a functioning member of the human race. Felicity chews her way through a sandwich with hard bread and manages a sour tasting yogurt, looking forward to the day that she will regain her appetite properly. After that she decides that she cannot stay in her room any longer, so she drags a half asleep Roy from his room into the day room, and they join some of the older women watching the Harry Potter marathon.

“I don’t feel like being with people,” Roy argues.

“I know. But Barry just left his room, so we should too,” Felicity insists, tugging on Roy’s hoodie-clad arm until he huffs and follows her into the hallway.

They’re nearing the end of Goblet of Fire, the crowd seated around the TV enthralled by the maze at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, when Thea Queen enters, her eyes searching the room.

“Thea!” Felicity gets her attention, guessing that she is searching for Roy. Her heart picks up a little, because if Thea is here then that usually means she has bought Oliver, too.

“Hey,” Thea spots Felicity and Roy and weaves her way over to them, her shoulders seeming to relax a little as she reaches Roy. “I was worried when you weren’t in your room,” she tells him. He reaches for her hands and pulls her down so that they are sharing the large chair.

“Sorry,” he kisses her cheek.

“It’s ok. John told me he thought he saw you go in here.”

“Felicity told me I should get out more,” Roy grumbles, but he’s smiling at her.

“She’s right,” Thea agrees. “Oh Felicity, Oliver’s just picking up some extra medication, he won’t be long.”

“Extra medication?” Felicity asks, beginning to worry.

“Yeah,” Thea sighs, “his headaches are getting worse.”

Felicity’s mouth turns dry. No matter how hard she wants it to, Oliver’s cancer isn’t going to go away. He can go a little while without his symptoms being too bad, living his life like he isn’t sick, and she can forget that his days are painfully numbered. But the cancer doesn’t like being forgotten. It’s going to control the rest of those numbered days, and he is going to get steadily sicker and sicker, closer and closer to death. She needs to remember this.

“Ok,” she says quietly. She tries to pay attention to the movie, but out of the corner of her eye she watches Roy wrapping his arms around Thea, watches the way she leans against his shoulder. For a second she is filled with white hot jealousy, burning so hard that she wants to scream at them and scream at the whole wide world. It’s not fair that they get to be together, that they’ve had months and that, in all likelihood, they will have the rest of their lives together. It’s ok for them.

But then, just as quickly as it came, the flame burns out. They fell in love in a hospital, where one of them was having poison pumped into his body to save his life, and the other one was learning that her brother was going to die. Nothing’s _ok_ for them. They’re just clinging to a good thing in their messy lives. Felicity immediately feels angry at herself.

“Hey,” a hand on her shoulder makes her jump. It’s Oliver. Here with a warm smile and a paper bag full of pills.

“Hi,” she tips her head back to smile at him and he pulls a chair over to sit beside her.

“Did you get them?” Thea asks.

“Yeah,” Oliver shakes the bag. “Painkillers,” he holds them up to Felicity.

“Thea said,” Felicity tells him.

“It’s ok,” Oliver says quietly, placing a hand on top of hers on the arm of her chair. “Just headaches. I’m still here.” _But you won’t be for much longer_ , Felicity wants to reply. But there’s no use in it. It’s a terrible fact that they all know, and there’s no use in bringing up how much it hurts again.

“I hope those painkillers work,” is what she says instead.

“These are the same as my old ones, I just ran out of them. But Dig said he can write me a prescription for some even stronger ones if these won’t work,” Oliver explains.

“If you’re in pain, why can’t have you have the stronger ones now?” Felicity wonders.

“They’re the ones that just knock you out flat.”

“Right.” Felicity knows that if she had just six months left, she wouldn’t want to spend much of it unconscious, either.

“I’m ok,” he whispers, their faces close together. He kisses her temple and she breathes in his familiar, comforting scent. “So, Harry Potter,” he gestures at the TV.

“Yeah. Have you seen it?”

“Of course I have,” he sounds surprised that she would think he hadn’t. Felicity shuffles lower down in her chair. “I’ve read the books, too.”

“You have?” Felicity really is surprised at that. Playboy Oliver, the Oliver of pre-cancer days, didn’t seem like the type to read books. But maybe he read them after his diagnosis. “When?”

“In here. When I was getting treatment, before.” Before it came back twice as vicious.

“Did you read a lot?” Felicity asks.

“I guess so. It was a good distraction,” he replies.

“Yeah. Got to have distractions,” Felicity agrees. _Distractions like you_ she thinks.

\--

The following day, Oliver speaks to Laurel and learns that Sara has woken up but that she can’t breathe unassisted just yet, and that they will be keeping her in the ICU for at least a few more days. Felicity isn’t sure what to feel when Oliver relays the information to her, and when she tells him as much, he pulls her close and says that maybe she doesn’t have to feel anything, not yet. That there is no proper way to feel anything, and it’s ok if there isn’t always an immediate reaction.

“Laurel also told me that Sara’s worried about her comics,” Oliver says, his arms still wound tightly around her back.

“Why?” Felicity asks.

“Because they’re supposed to be delivered to the kids’ ward, and she can’t do it. So I told Laurel to tell Sara that I’ll do it. I’ll take the original to get copied today, and then I’ll deliver them tomorrow.”

“That’s great!” Felicity pulls back to smile at him. “Do you think I could come?”

“I don’t think it would be safe,” Oliver frowns. “You aren’t supposed to leave this ward.”

“It’s just the kids’ ward,” Felicity shrugs.

“Kids get sick easily, Felicity. I don’t want you to get sick. You don’t exactly have the ability to fight anything off,” Oliver tells her, like she needs reminding. Her mom had called yesterday, upset because she was sure she had the beginnings of a cold and wouldn’t be able to visit until she was better. Her own _mom_ couldn’t visit.

“Maybe I should ask John or Lyla,” Felicity muses.

“They’ll just say no.”

“You don’t _know_ that.”

“Felicity,” he reaches for her hand, gripping it tight when she tries, half-heartedly, to pull it away. “In a few weeks, you’ll be ok, and then you can come every month to deliver Sara’s comics to the kids. But not this time. Not this time, ok? It’s not safe for you.” He’s right. She knows that he’s right. It’s just a little bit of time cooped up on the ward, and then she’ll be well enough to do all of the things she wants to do, including delivering comics to the kids. Just not this time.

“Ok,” she sighs.

“Good. I’m sorry,” he squeezes her hand. “When’s your first appointment today?”

Felicity is having bloods taken and another marrow aspiration to see if the chemo has worked, to see whether she will need more treatment or whether it’s just a case of a marrow transplant and she’s done. She’s been trying not to think about it too much, but she can’t help hoping and wishing that she will be one of the lucky ones and it will be gone.

“They’re taking me to get my marrow aspiration in an hour and I’ll have the results this afternoon,” she tells him.

“They’re quick,” Oliver comments.

“They have to be.”

“That’s true,” he smiles. “Do you want me to be there with you?”

“I’m sure you have _something_ better to do?”

“I’ll cancel dinner with the president. You’re more important.”

“Don’t do that. He might have me assassinated,” Felicity can’t hide her smile now.

“Then I’ll just have to assassinate him first.”

“Ok, ok,” Felicity laughs, “You can come. I’d like you to come.” She tells him, and he’s there.

\--

The day passes in a blur of hand holding and needles. Oliver makes her laugh when she’s bored of the waiting, and crack a smile when she wants to start crying. When they do the marrow aspiration she is reminded of the last time she had one, not so long ago and yet a whole lifetime ago, on the night she saw Oliver in the day room with Roy. He was just somebody to be curious about back then. Now, when Lyla arrives with Felicity’s results, she asks if he can stay to hear them because she cannot imagine hearing them alone. She doesn’t have to do this alone, and above all she doesn’t _want_ to do it alone.

 “Of course,” Lyla smiles, and then proceeds to greet Oliver and ask how he’s doing. Sometimes Felicity forgets that Oliver has known everybody here for much longer than she has. She wonders how long Lyla and John have been together, and if Oliver knew them before they were. There are so many things that she wants to ask him. “So, we’ll start with some good news,” Lyla begins, and Felicity pulls her knees up to her chin and knots her hands together at the front of them. “A bone marrow donor has been found for you,” she tells Felicity.

“Really?” Felicity squeaks, hardly able to believe it. Somewhere in the world there is a person who is going to change her life, save her life, and they might not even know it yet.

“Yes. An individual in Coast City, who was only recently placed on the register was found to be a match,” Lyla smiles, and Felicity feels lighter. That was her main worry, that a match wouldn’t be found. And now there is one, and Felicity is going to get a re-vamped immune system and the cancer will stay away this time. But then she remembers that Lyla had said that was the _good news._ That she would be starting with it. Implying that there is also some bad, or at best not-great news to follow.  

“That was the good news? You said start with some good news? _Start_ with some. What does that – does that mean…” Felicity trails off, unable to finish her sentence. The air in the room seems to thin. Lyla shuffles her notes.

“Unfortunately, the leukaemia is still present.” Lyla says quietly. Still present. She isn’t going to need that bone marrow after all. The donor, living out their life in Coast City, can keep it.

Her head drops onto her knees. She wants to sob or to punch something. Or rather, she knows that those are the things she _should_ be doing. Instead, she just feels numbness. A sensation of nothingness flooding her whole body. Maybe it’s a defence mechanism, a way to stop a tidal wave of pain from hitting her at once. Flood defences against the tsunami. They won’t work forever, but they can buy some time. Felicity closes her eyes and lets Oliver’s voice wash over her, hearing him ask what exactly that means, vaguely listening as Lyla says that the chemotherapy has worked, but not well enough, that they will need to do another cycle of it. Another eight days and even stronger this time.

Felicity waits for the emotions to come, like they did before. She waits, as Lyla leaves, promising to come back tomorrow to talk about it further, her heels clicking on the tiles as she leaves. She waits as Oliver tries to talk to her about it, tries to get her to eat something when her dinner arrives. Waits as John comes in to check up on her, as the darkness creeps into the sky. Felicity waits for emotions, any kind of emotions, trying to evoke them by turning on the TV. There’s some reruns of a sitcom with a laughter track, one that she likes, but it’s all just background noise. It’s all just _there_. Present, but meaningless. Her mom calls and she has to recount the conversation with Lyla to her over the phone. Her mom is still sick and sounds like she might be crying again, and Felicity knows that it should hurt her, because it’s her fault her mom is crying again, but it doesn’t. There’s just nothing.

“Felicity, please talk to me about this,” Oliver coaxes after she hangs up the phone. He’s muted the TV. Her eyes flick to it anyway.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Are you scared?” He asks her.

“No. You told me it was ok not to feel anything.”

“It is. But are you sure you’re _not_ feeling anything?” He checks. “You should at least talk to me, or to someone, about this.”

“I thought you said you were going to go get copies of Sara’s comic done?” Felicity asks, her voice void of emotion. She’s pretty sure she is broken. A broken mind with broken blood running through her veins.

“I am. But I’m not just going to leave you like this.” He reaches out to touch her and she flinches away.

If he touches her, she won’t ever want him to stop. And he has to stop, because he’s going to die.

And for the first time, the reality that she might be going with him hits her. One final, terrible, adventure. She doesn’t want to die. She isn’t ready. She hasn’t lived yet. The way Oliver speaks about it, he’s ready for it, prepared to leave the earth. Felicity isn’t. She likes being a part of the world, watching sunsets and feeling the rain and even the birds waking her up at stupid a.m. She’s got things to do here. She wants to make some kind of a difference, she wants to get married. She wants to see the world and swim in the ocean again. All things considered, she has a good life. A great life. It hits her like a truck. She does not want to be torn apart by cancer. She does not want to leave behind her friends or her job or her mom. Felicity is an only child. What the hell is it going to do to her mom, if she just dies? If one day she just isn’t in the world anymore? Where do you even go when you die? You have to go somewhere, right? She isn’t ready.

Oh God, she doesn’t want to die.

“I’m not ready to die.”

“What?” Oliver sits up straighter, drawing closer to her. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not ready to die. I don’t want to die, Oliver. I can’t _die_. I’m in my twenties. I have plans. I can’t die, I can’t die, I can’t die.” She stops waiting, because then the tears are there, pricking her eyes and weaving their way down her cheeks.  The flood defences have been battered down by the sea. And the pain of it hits her in the chest and all she can do is feel, is drown in the weight of it all.

“You are _not_ going to die.” And then he’s there, his body against hers, kissing her cheeks, kissing her nose, kissing her forehead. Kissing her lips.

Oliver’s lips are softer than expected. Soft and salty, although she thinks, in some distant part of her mind, that those are her own tears stuck on his lips. She’s stunned for a second, frozen in the spot, and then the room seems to spin and the very universe tilts a little, maybe the earth rocks a degree to the right on its axis. He’s frozen too, waiting for something. Then she is kissing him back. Furious kisses. She’s so angry. Filled with rage that he has to die and that maybe she will, too. So he thaws out too. Her hands move to his back of their own accord, and then one ventures to the back of his head, keeping him there, locked to her. His hands move too, one on her lower back and one on the back of her neck. There are goose bumps there, tingles that she doesn’t think will ever go away. There will be marks there when she’s buried. Their lips move against each other’s, eyes closed. She pulls him closer, still, doesn’t want him to ever stop kissing her. She doesn’t need flood defences if she has him. He is just there, all around her. Oliver, Oliver, Oliver.

And then he’s gone, and she tears open her eyes and stares into his. She’s sure he’d be on the other side of the room but she isn’t going to let go of him, just presses her forehead, which is too cold, against his, which is too warm. Her heart is beating enough to explode and she can’t catch her breath, but she wants to kiss him again and again and again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, swallowing.

“Don’t be.” There are still tears on her face. She doesn’t care.

“We shouldn’t-“

“I don’t care.” She edges closer to him, asking without words, and he replies by putting his lips on hers. It’s different, the second kiss. Slow and careful. His hands tighten again, so hers do too, like if they try hard enough they can melt together. She runs her tongue along his bottom lip, slowly, tasting what she thinks is cherry mixed in with the salt from her own tears. There is a sound somewhere deep in his throat and then he pulls back again, gently, their foreheads together once more.

“Felicity,” he whispers her name like it’s made of gold. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“So never stop,” she suggests, but she can feel tears running down her cheeks again. Because she knows what happens next.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” he says, his voice drenched in sadness. He kisses her three more times, short and filled to the brim with things he wants to tell her, and then he steps back and she lets him go, hands falling to her lap. “I need to, uh… I have some stuff I need to think about,” he tells her, taking another step back.

“Ok. It’s ok. I know,” she nods, rubbing the tears away with the heel of her hand.

“Will you be ok?” He checks.

She wants to say no. She wants him to stay. “Yeah,” she whispers. His eyes catch hers for a second, filled with apologies, and then he leaves, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that happened! Let me know what you thought!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY, I'm so bad at updating on any kind of schedule at this point. I seriously can't thank you enough for sticking with this fic if you have.
> 
> I'm also sorry for what's to come in this chapter. I did some research for it and it made me cry. So maybe have some tissues nearby?
> 
> Also, I didn't have a lot of time to edit this so please excuse any mistakes you find and feel free to point them out in the comments so I can change them.

XII.

It’s two days until Felicity sees Oliver again. All she wants to do is call him, but she tells herself that if he wanted to talk, he would be the one to call her. She’s ready to talk when he is. They ignored the almost-kiss, but they can’t very well ignore this. This time it was raw emotions and aching hearts. This time it pushed them over the edge of something which Felicity thinks has the potential to be beautiful. But it won’t be anything unless he calls her. She frowns at her phone for the whole evening after he leaves, whilst explaining everything to Caitlin when she visits, and for the entire morning afterwards. Even now, after she has received some terrible news, he’s distracting her from it. He doesn’t even have to be in the same building to do that. She watches her phone whilst chatting to John about Lyla’s pregnancy, and whilst Doctor Wells is explaining what will happen during the next stage of chemotherapy. Eight more days, stronger stuff this time. He tells her it will work, though, that they’re confident about that. That the percentage of blast cells in her blood has decreased significantly, and with one more treatment they should be low enough to classify her as cancer free. The best news is that if this treatment works, she should only have to stay in the hospital for another month, which in total adds up to longer than first anticipated, but when Felicity considers how long Sara and Roy have been here, it’s no time at all.

Thea comes to her room in the early afternoon when Felicity is half asleep. She knows that she should be doing things while she has a little more energy before she starts more chemo, but there’s a nervous feeling in her stomach which she can’t shake. What she really needs to do is talk to Oliver about everything.

“Felicity?” Thea opens the door and peers in.

“Thea! Is everything ok?” Felicity asks, wondering if Oliver is maybe here, too.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Thea smiles, stepping in and walking over to her. “Oliver isn’t doing too good today, though.” Thea sits in the chair beside Felicity’s bed, arms folded across her chest.

“What do you mean? Is he ok?” Images of a half dead Oliver are rushing through her mind. He is supposed to have six months left.

“It’s ok, he’s ok,” Thea tells her quickly. “He has good days and bad days. He’s got this migraine that he can’t shake, today, and he can’t keep any food down, so he stayed home. But he said he’s really sorry, and that he’ll be here tomorrow. He promises.”

“Aren’t those painkillers working?” Felicity asks, thinking of the paper pharmacy bag.

“No,” Thea shakes her head. “So he had to take some of the stronger ones.”

“The ones that knock him out?”

“Yeah.”

“He hates those.”

“I know,” Thea sighs. “Mom and me had to persuade him.” Thea is starting to look upset, and Felicity feels a little guilty.

“Sorry, I-“ Felicity starts.

“No, don’t be sorry. You’re such a help to him. He’s happier now. It’s almost like…” Thea squints a little. “Like he has something to _live_ for. Not live for, wrong phrase. Something to carry on for, through the time he has left.” 

“Yeah. I get it,” Felicity nods. “He helps me, too.” Thea smiles, something which Felicity cannot identify glinting in her eyes.

“I know,” Thea pats Felicity’s hand and takes a deep breath. “I should get back to Roy. Are you ok?”

“Yeah. I’m – I need to have more chemo. So that’s not the best news,” Felicity tells Thea. She doesn’t know why she tells her, she just does. “And I’m worried about Sara. Oliver was getting the news on her but he’s not here. No one seems to want to tell me.”

“Ollie told me about the chemo,” Thea says. “I’m so sorry you have to have more.”

“It’s ok. I’m gonna be ok,” Felicity closes her eyes for a second, breathing the stale air in slowly.

“Of course you are,” Thea tells her quietly. “And I’ll ask about Sara for you. I’m sure she’s ok, though. She’s so strong.” Felicity nods in agreement. “Oh, Ollie asked me to give Sara’s comics to the kids so I did that, too. They loved them,” Thea beams.

“Did they like Overwatch?” Felicity asks, smiling at the thought of the children enjoying Sara’s work.

“They loved her,” Thea replies, and Felicity feels warmth ignite in her chest.

Thea smiles a warm smile and promises to come back with more Oliver news tomorrow, and then leaves to see Roy, and Felicity buries herself in daytime TV. She ends up watching a reality show in which a man is denying he’s the father of his wife’s best friend’s baby, and gets far too involved in it though she knows she shouldn’t.

After dinner she makes her way to the day room because she thinks she’s going to go crazy if she spends another hour alone, doing nothing. And she’s worried about getting too involved in reality TV. She finds Barry in there with Iris, both eating yellow pudding cups, Kendra beside Iris, Roy opposite them, without a pudding cup and without Thea.

“Who did you kill to get a pudding cup?” Felicity asks, sitting down beside Roy and tugging her hat down further.

“Dig,” Barry answers straight faced. Felicity doesn’t mention how happy she is to see him out of his room, smiling, interacting. Being a part of the world. She knows when she integrated back into everyday life after she got out of the hospital in high school, the best thing the people around her could do was to act normally around her, the same way they always had.

“Isn’t your dad a police officer?” Felicity asks Iris. She hasn’t spoken to her all that much but she likes her already. Hell, she’d like Iris if she had _never_ spoken to her, because she always made Barry happy.

“He’s a dirty cop,” Kendra says, and Iris nods, smiling. Kendra looks tired and thin and generally sicker than Felicity has seen her before. It makes her feel heavier, like rocks are being tied to her legs. Kendra is smiley and happy and now she’s just another person Felicity knows who has given her body to cancer. Felicity knows enough sick people, and when she thinks about all of the other Felicity’s in all of the hospitals in all of the world, that amounts to a lot of sick friends, a lot of sick people. Sometimes it’s too much to think about.

“Yeah, he’s a pudding pusher,” Iris agrees and then bursts into laughter. Felicity looks at Barry watching Iris like he wants to bottle her laugh and keep it for a rainy day.

“Thea told me to let me know the kids invited us to their fall dance,” Roy chips in. He has his hood up again, as usual, looking just as exhausted with the world as usual. Felicity wonders what he would look like if he wasn’t sick.

“They did?” Kendra leans forward in her seat.

“Yeah. I mean, I think they want us to bring more comics but they said they want us to go,” Roy says.

“When is it?” Barry asks.

“Next week, I think,” Roy tells them.

“I’ll go,” Barry says, looking around at all of them. “Iris, want to come as my official chair pusher?”

“I’d be honoured,” she smiles at him, and Felicity swears Barry loses his breath a little at that smile. It makes her miss Oliver with a strange twisting feeling in her chest. It’s an unfamiliar feeling.

“I’ll come, if I get the ok from the doctors,” Felicity says. She’d like to go, to meet the kids, do something which makes her feel a little more normal for an evening. And she’d like Oliver to go, too.

“If you’re in, then I’m in, Blondie,” Roy tells her, and then Kendra is in too, and there’s something like excitement between them all. Something to break up the monotony of being an inpatient on the cancer ward.

\--

The next day is bad because Felicity has to start chemo again, but good because her mom finally feels better and gets the ok to come back to the hospital. Felicity gets hooked up to the drugs again with a sense of dread hanging over her, but Oliver sends her an early morning good luck text and promises to come by earlier, and then her mom comes with a bunch of plastic flowers and a box of muffins. It’s comforting to have her mom back again. Like in every other area of life she does just fine on her own, but in the hospital she does so much better with the support of her mom than she would do without. Donna brings a surprise too, in a pink box with a bow. It’s a brand new wig, blonde and shoulder length and Felicity is sure that it must have cost more than her mom could afford, especially since she’s taking so much time off work. Felicity cries when her mom brings it out and she tries it on in front of the mirror.

“I tried it on myself, and the girl in the shop said it was one of the best quality ones,” Donna tells her, standing behind Felicity as she looks in the mirror.

“Thank you so much,” Felicity tells her, unable to articulate what she really wants to say.

Donna tells Felicity that Sara should be leaving the ICU today or tomorrow, thanks to information from Quentin Lance.

“She’s really sick though, honey,” Donna tells Felicity, brushing a strand of her new hair behind her ear. Felicity tugs her green hat on over the top of the wig and feels more complete with it, like she needs the hat to feel right, hair or none.

“What do you mean?” Felicity asks, suddenly nervous. Her mom pauses.

“I’ll let her tell you. She’d want that.”

“Mom? Why? What’s wrong?” Felicity spins around to face Donna, needing answers.

“Just don’t worry about it.” Donna says, fiddling with Felicity’s hair again. Felicity huffs and moves back to the bed, resigning herself to waiting until Sara returns to find out.

\--

The chemo tires her out but nothing much else on the first day. Caitlin has the afternoon free because of a training exercise she was supposed to do for work being cancelled, so she and Donna and Felicity play Uno until Felicity falls asleep, and when she wakes up they are both gone, having left a note to explain their absences. Caitlin was going to see a movie with some work friends (Felicity squashes the pang of jealousy that she can’t go and see a movie with Caitlin), and her mom has gone for dinner with Quentin, which makes Felicity smile. She flicks through a magazine her mom left behind, interspersed with yawns, chats to John when he comes to do her observations, chats with the lady who delivers her dinner, eats, and then begins to read the news on her phone when there’s a single knock at the door. The face she has wanted to see for two days appears. If she had been a healthy person, not trapped in a hospital, she’d have driven to his house by now and demanded answers. But when he walks over to her and wraps her in his arms and she breathes him in, she thinks that maybe this was better. And if she had been a well person, she keeps reminding herself, they would never have met anyhow.

“I’m sorry,” he says into her hat.

“Don’t be dumb,” she says into his shoulder. They stay buried in each other for a few more seconds. The pit of nervousness pooled in Felicity’s stomach has evaporated.

“You got hair,” Oliver smiles fondly, pulling back and running his fingers through the ends of her hair.

“My mom bought it for me,” she laughs, studying his face. He looks just like he always does – tired and worn down, like Roy. Like, she realises, her.

“You look beautiful, Felicity. With, or without hair.” Her heart flutters a little inside her chest, and she knows that it shouldn’t affect her, comments about looks, but she spends so much of her time these days feeling tired and run down, and it means a lot.

“Are you ok?” She asks him when he settles into the chair beside her bed.

“Better today,” he says, and she believes him.

They look at each other for a minute or two, Felicity remembering the way Oliver’s hair falls and the exact shade of blue in his eyes, and how peaceful he makes her feel.

“Do you want to work on our project today?” He asks her.

“Project?”

“Our donations? Or are you too tired?” He asks, concerned.

“Oh!” She remembers. “I already got some of the bank details,” Felicity tells him, looking around for her laptop. Oliver passes it to her, careful of the wires attached to her body.

“Who did you get the details for?” He asks.

“I did finance checks on about half of the patients on this ward, and narrowed the list down based on that, but I still have the other half of the ward to do,” she says. “Why are we doing it today? Could we do it on a day I’m not so tired? I have major brain fog.”

“It… it should really be today,” Oliver says quietly.

“Why?” Felicity asks quickly, the nervous feeling from earlier returning.

“I just feel like we should do it today,” Oliver shrugs, acting nonchalant. Felicity narrows her eyes at him. “So could I get a look at the list you narrowed down?” He moves to get a closer look at the computer screen. “We can do it another day though. If you’re really too tired,” Oliver says. But Felicity gets the distinct impression that what he wants more than anything right now is for her to agree to begin their work today. So she does.

\--

Ninety minutes later they finish transferring anonymous funds to the final person on today’s list – a middle aged woman named Lisa who has three children and breast cancer and can’t really afford to pay her medical bills _and_ rent for her family home.

“You sure?” Felicity asks Oliver, her finger hovering over the ‘send’ button.

“Never been more certain,” Oliver replies, pushing his finger over hers to that, together, they press the button and transfer the money.

“Pushing send has never felt better,” Felicity laughs as she closes her laptop. Oliver puts it on the ground behind the chair.

“So,” he starts, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. “We kissed.”

“We did,” Felicity nods, butterflies suddenly alive in her stomach.

“Are you ok? With the kiss?” He asks.

“Yeah. Definitely.” She’s worried that she’s coming across as too enthusiastic. “It was definitely a good thing.”

“I think so too,” he’s smiling at his knees. And then his expression falters, and he opens his mouth as if to speak again.

“Don’t.” She stops him. She knows what he’s going to say already. “I know that we aren’t _supposed_ to… to do this. That I’m not _supposed_ to get attached to you. But I already am attached to you. And when you… when you die-“ she swallows, pushing down the lump forming in her throat “-it’s going to crush my, either way. That’s not your fault. So – so we may as well kiss sometimes. Or whatever.”  She ends her sentence with a watery smile which he returns.

“There’s nothing I’d change about my life, you know. If I could. Even if I changed something and it stopped me from getting cancer, which I know isn’t possible, you can’t change biology.” He takes Felicity’s hand, and just like always, it feels like it fits there. “My life’s been good, and I’ve been lucky. And there were years, with Tommy, where I didn’t live my life in the way I s _hould_ have. But I was happy, in the moments, at the parties. It’s been a good life, and I’ve done some good things, and that’s why I decided not to have the surgery. Why ruin a good thing?” He shoots her one of his signature smiles, and she isn’t sure where he’s going but she smiles back. “There are things I would have loved to do. But I did so many things that people never do, people who live till they’re ninety. I didn’t imagine I’d find someone who made me as happy as you do, with six months left to live. I just want you to know, right now, that I wouldn’t change a thing. And so who am I to make your choices for you? If you want to get your heart broken… then I guess I’m your guy.” He shrugs like he’s telling her he doesn’t mind what type of pizza they get.

Without thinking about it, Felicity reaches over and kisses him on the lips. It feels like all of her choices led her here, to this room, with him. She is wading through the crap that is cancer, and he is holding her hand to stop her from falling.

\--

“Sweetie?” Donna shakes her gently by the shoulder. Felicity slowly opens her eyes to see her mom’s face inches from her own.

“Mom?” Felicity squints so as to look at her properly.

“It’s three p.m.”

“What?” The last time Felicity had seen was nine this morning. The familiar chemo-induced ache in her bones has returned, to join an all-consuming exhaustion.

“I thought you might like to know that Sara’s back,” she tells Felicity, but not in the happy tone of voice which Felicity associated with her friend’s return.

“Is she ok?” Felicity asks in a voice thick with sleep.

“You should go see her. Oliver and Roy were there a little while ago.”

“Oliver was here?”

“He was in here when I got here, but he said he didn’t want to wake you,” Donna says as Felicity begins to sit up, fighting against the spinning of the room.

“Did he seem ok?” Felicity asks, putting her hand to her head.

“I guess so. I mean he left in a hurry when I showed up but he said he had somewhere to be,” Donna shrugs.

“Oh.”

“Is everything ok? Did something happen between you two?” She’s smiling now, eyes glistening.

“No! No, everything’s fine. I just wondered. I was just asking,” Felicity says quickly, trying to brush her queries off as nothing. She knows that if her mom thinks, even for a moment, that something did happen between them, Felicity won’t hear the end of it.

“Ok,” her mom says, but Felicity can tell she doesn’t really believe her. “Are you hungry?”

“No.” The thought of food makes Felicity want to throw up right now.

“You’re too skinny, you should eat!”

“Unsurprisingly, chemo is a great weight loss tool,” Felicity says, mid yawn. “I’ll eat later.”

“I’ll go and get you anything you want. Do you need anything right now?” Donna checks. Felicity shakes her head. She just wants to sleep more. And maybe take some pain meds for the aching filling up her bones, but she’s ok without. “You want to go and see Sara?”

“Is she even going to want more visitors?” Felicity frowns. Of course she wants to see Sara, but as long as she knows she’s ok, it can wait until Sara actually wants to see her.

“I think she’s lonely, baby. Her family were with her the whole time in the ICU and she finally made them go home today. I don’t know if she wants to be by herself.” Felicity considers her mom’s words. It would be strange, to go from being surrounded by people you love to having nobody by your side. And she wants to see if her friend really is ok.

“Ok. Could you pass my hat and sweater?” Felicity asks as she carefully pulls on some socks. “Is her dad ok?” Felicity asks, putting the sweater and hat on. She doesn’t want to put her wig on because she can see herself returning to her bed pretty soon.

“He’s not great.” Her mom looks away from her. Felicity assumes it’s because she knows how hard it is to have a sick kid. That leads to awkwardness because Felicity hates herself for the hundredth time for putting her mom through this.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Felicity leaves for Sara’s room, dragging her IV pole with her.

The corridors are quiet today, a thick silence settled over them. Usually there is some kind of noise from the reception area, people talking, the constant white noise of machines. Felicity doesn’t notice any of it as she makes the short journey across to Sara’s room. The world looks a little strange now that she’s back on chemo, like it’s tilted on its axis again, but Felicity has stayed the same. Like she didn’t get the memo and now she’s a crooked person in the wrong sort of world.

“Sara?” Felicity knocks gently on the door, and then pushes it ajar when she doesn’t hear anything from inside.

She finds Sara in there, sitting on her bed with her back to the door. Her beautiful fake hair is trailing down her back, catching the light in such a way that it looks more golden than anything else. She is hunched over something, her body moving a little, and when Felicity makes her way around to her she sees that Sara is drawing, her sketchbook resting on her knees, a collection of pencils and other tools sitting beside her on the bed. Felicity wishes that she had a camera so that she could capture this moment. Freeze this little piece of time forever. This gap in the alternate reality of the hospital, of being a long term inpatient, where time passes differently.

“Sara?” Felicity is standing at the end of her bed, trying not to sway where she stands.

“Hey,” Sara says quietly, not looking up from her pencil skimming over the paper.

“What are you drawing?” Felicity asks, taking a closer look.

“It’s me,” Sara tells her. Her voice is a little strange, thicker than usual.

Felicity moves a little closer so that she can see the paper over Sara’s arm. It is her, and it is beautiful. Sara isn’t drawing from any photograph or a mirror, it’s just from memory. A drawing in pencil and charcoal, of a girl with wispy hair and a bright smile, eyes half closed with laughter. The Sara in the drawing looks almost shiny, like maybe she is the very embodiment of joy. It’s not the kind of drawing a stranger could draw. It’s one which comes with knowing, with memories, with a thick layer of emotions spread on top.

“It’s beautiful, Sara,” Felicity whispers, still taking in the flow of her hair and the accuracy of the shadows falling on her face.

“Thank you,” Sara says, and then she looks up and Felicity wants to cry. Because the Sara in the picture and the Sara in front of her are not the same.

This Sara has too-sharp cheekbones and far away eyes and too-pale lips. Not blue, though. But Felicity can’t forget that they were. The new addition to her face makes that impossible. The clear tubes, snaking their way into Sara’s nose. It’s a cannula, to help her breathe. Maybe even to keep her alive.

Sara doesn’t have to say anything. Felicity just knows that this time she hasn’t returned from the ICU because she’s better. She’s returned because there’s nothing else they can do for her.

“Do you like them?” Sara asks in a voice which has no emotions. She gestures with a bony hand to the cannula tubes.

“Sara. What-“ Felicity starts to say something. She isn’t sure what, though.

“My lungs are fucked. I have to use a cannula now. I have to use it for the rest of my… for the rest of my life.” She stumbles on the last bit, taking a breath before finishing her words. “I’m just drawing this so that my family can stop seeing me like this sick person. Even just for a second. I just wanted to remember how it felt to feel like that.” Sara takes another breath but this one is shuddering. Felicity can feel tears begin to prickle in her eyes. “There’s a photo of this in my dad’s house. He took it on his birthday, the year before I got sick.” She scrunches her eyes shut. “I’d give anything to be this girl again, Felicity.” She speaks the words under her breath and then dips her head down back towards the drawing, her shaking hand holding the orange pencil above the page.

Seconds later, a fat, round teardrop hits the paper, smudging the shading in the sketched hair. Felicity takes the final step forward and pulls Sara towards her, hands resting on her shoulder blades. Sara’s forehead falls to Felicity’s shoulder and then she goes still, and time slows to a crawl.

“I’m dying,” Sara says in a voice so quiet that Felicity can barely hear it. She wishes she hadn’t. She wishes that Sara hadn’t said it. She wishes that Sara hadn’t needed to say it, wishes that it wasn’t true, wishes that Sara was ok. That her cells never mutated into cancer. That it never spread to her lungs. That the treatment worked. Felicity wishes anything. She wishes, more than anything, harder than ever before, that Sara could still be that girl in the drawing. That girl that she would give anything to be again. Her chest hurts with the weight of the wishes. The wishes uttered in quiet spaces in the night on the cancer ward. The wishes that no one is listening to. The wishes that cannot be granted. All of the money in the world could not grant them.

Could not save Sara Lance.

“How long?” Felicity asks through the lump in her throat. She doesn’t want to ask. That’s the last thing she want to say. It’s just that she needs to know.

“Couple months.” Sara answers immediately, speaking into Felicity’s sweater. She’s shaking now, under Felicity’s hands.

A couple months. That means she’ll be gone before Christmas. Gone before Oliver.

Two people gone.

Felicity’s legs can’t hold her up anymore. She falls to the cold linoleum, almost pulling the wires from her own body in the process. She doesn’t care. Nothing matters. Not any more. There are going to be two gaping holes in the universe. One in the shape of Oliver Queen, and one beside it in the shape of Sara Lance. Another insurmountable quantity of potential ripped away. All of the future days which will never come. All of the birthdays and Christmases and job interviews and coffee dates and dentist appointments. Everything which should have been.

It’s all going to fall into the human shaped holes and nothing is going to be ok ever again.

Felicity is vaguely aware of clattering sounds around her, like hailstones, before she realises that Sara is throwing her pencils at the wall and they are rebounding to hit the floor.

“It’s. Not. Fair.” Sara punctuates each word with a different pencil, spinning through the air and landing with a crash, stopped short by the wall. “ _Fuck.”_ Sara’s voice is raw and unstable, and Felicity looks up at her as she gives her the pencil throwing and brushes all of her remaining art equipment off of the bed. It all scatters to the floor and separates, some rolling towards the door and others towards the window. Then Sara picks up her self-portrait, thumb creasing the pencil lines. That’s when Felicity snaps out of it, swiping at the tears running down her cheeks and reaching up for Sara’s elbow instead.

“Sara,” Felicity tugs on her elbow, and after a few seconds of resisting, Sara crumbles to the ground too, drawing clutched to her chest. “Sara, I’m so sorry.” Felicity whispers, moving closer to her friend to pull her closer again.

“I wanted to travel the world, Felicity. I wanted to backpack across Europe and climb all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower and propose to my girlfriend up there, with the whole of Paris at our feet. Jesus, _Nyssa_. I wanted to marry her so badly. I was going to marry her because I wanted to spend the rest of my _fucking life_ with her.” Sara stops and Felicity chokes back a sob.

Oliver had accepted his death. But she hadn’t seen him on the day he was told that the only way to save him was a risky surgery that held no guarantees of working. She hadn’t been there when he decided that it wasn’t worth it, when he chose death, or as he accepted it. Sara’s death is new and raw and a knife twisting in her chest. Oliver has had time to come to terms with dying. Sara hasn’t. Maybe Sara never will, because of how little time she has left. Somehow, that makes Felicity feel so much worse.

“I’m never going to get my comics published.” Sara comes to another realisation. “And the kids in the ward here, I won’t be able to write anything for them anymore. I’ve let them down.”

“You could never do that. Never, ever,” Felicity tells her. She can’t speak in a voice louder than a whisper anymore. If she does then the lump in her throat will win and she will drown in her own tears. She doesn’t want to do that in front of Sara.

“I’m so _angry._ I’ve heard people say that death is – is some kind of relief? Or some crap. It isn’t. God, it’s just-“ She can’t finish speaking. Sara chooses to snap an orange pencil crayon in half instead. “Don’t waste a day, Felicity. Shit. Don’t do what I did. Don’t waste a single, beautiful, crazy day.”

“I won’t. I promise,” Felicity says. And she means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I will try my hardest to find some time to write an update quicker this time. Please comment and leave kudos, they mean so much to me and nothing cheers me up more.


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